


Shadow and Light

by speedgriffon



Series: And There Was Much Rejoicing | Varric x Bethany Fics [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, F/M, Flashbacks, Implied Past Relationships, Implied Relationships, Mild Language, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Purple Hawke, Rogue Hawke (Dragon Age), Rogue Inquisitor - Freeform, Romance, Unresolved Romantic Tension, not quite slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-11 01:03:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17436914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speedgriffon/pseuds/speedgriffon
Summary: Nothing in Varric’s life ever goes as planned, but he's damn good at improvising with the hand he's dealt.Varric introduces Hawke to the Inquisition, and with Garrett Hawke comes Bethany, much to Varric's surprise. And there was much rejoicing. (Monty Python jokes not included).





	1. L’esprit de l’escalier

Varric thought introducing _The Champion of Kirkwall_ to the Inquisition would be an easy task.

Bring the Inquisitor up to the ramparts to shake hands, exchange pleasantries, maybe some laughs about saving the world—and then straight to the war room before any suspecting Seekers came snooping about. If Varric timed it right, he could have Hawke in and out of Skyhold in a fortnight.

What he failed to realize was just how furious Cassandra would be with his deception.

Suffice to say, it didn’t go as smoothly as he planned.

Then again, _nothing_ in Varric’s life ever went as planned.

If it weren’t for the Inquisitor’s intervention, he was sure the Seeker would’ve killed him in the armory loft. Who knows how long it would’ve been before some unsuspecting guard found his corpse. Even with the Inquisitor’s unbiased resolution, he felt as though he had been scolded at like a child. And like any child feeling sorry for himself, he wore his frown as he sulked across Skyhold. At first he returned to the battlements in an attempt to find Hawke, but the rogue had wandered off. Varric wondered if he should instead try to find the Inquisitor and apologize for his behavior. The Lady Aurelie Trevelyan didn’t need to be resolving fights between her own people, there were bigger threats at hand. He figured the best place to run into her would be the great hall and started back across the courtyard.

His mind started to race, and for a moment, guilt settled in his stomach. Had he done the right thing? He took a deep breath to clear his thoughts when he picked up the faintest scent of prophet’s laurel. _Doesn’t that only grow on the coastlines?_ It reminded him of Kirkwall. It reminded him of…Varric shook his head, pushing the outlandish thought away. If anything, it was probably _Hawke_ who smelt like the laurels… _right_?

He entered the great hall, scanning the room of Orlesian nobles and ongoing construction, trying to spot the Inquisitor. And there _she_ was, standing at the fireplace. Not Trevelyan, but…

“Bethany?”

It came out of him in a shocked murmur, but loud enough that her head perked up from staring at the embers. She turned, and Varric swore the breath was knocked out of him when he realized it actually was _Bethany Hawke_ standing before him in the Skyhold great hall.

He hadn’t seen her before departing Kirkwall the previous year—Hawke had already sent her away to keep her safe from the growing Mage rebellion. A thousand waring apostates was no place for an innocent mage like her. With all his traveling across Thedas, Varric hadn’t seen her since Blondie destroyed the Kirkwall chantry. It really hadn’t been four years…had it? Sure, he had sent letters, and she had sent back in kind, but parchment was nothing compared to the real person standing before him. People were always coming and going from his life…he felt a sense of relief that _this_ person was back. But for how long?

Bethany smiled at him when he didn’t say anything. He took in her appearance; her hair had grown out, resting in dark, cascading waves across her shoulders. She was older now, but still had that youthfulness about her that he could see dancing in her eyes, especially as the fire reflected in her irises. She wasn’t wearing traditional mage robes, instead she wore a simple but flattering sapphire-colored dress fitting of the noblewoman she was. She was the same young woman he had met in Hightown all those years ago…and yet, different, _mature_.  

He breathed out, trying to shake the sudden awkwardness he felt. Why? Why did he feel this way? It wasn’t like him to be at a loss of words. He wondered what his face looked like, what his hair looked like. Why was he suddenly so self-conscious about his appearance?

“Varric?” her voice broke through everything and he snapped his eyes up to her face again. That simple, beautiful smile he remembered from long ago.

Suddenly, everything was clear.  

“Sunshine,” he grinned and beckoned for her meet him at his level. “Come here.”

She didn’t hesitate, though he could tell his long pause had her knitting her brows together in mild confusion. She hugged him tightly, and he found himself enveloped in that comforting and familiar aroma of laurels. He tucked her close to his chest, thankful that she was short for a human woman. Their embrace didn’t last nearly as long as he would’ve liked.

“Did you forget my nickname?” she nervously laughed as they pulled away from each other. Bethany momentarily framed his face with her hands and he widened his eyes a little, wondering what she was doing. “Just making sure you’re _really_ Varric, and not some fade demon.”

“Genuine Tethras,” he assured. Her hands were warm. Pleasant. “Sunshine, I’m okay.”

“I stopped receiving your letters and I was worried,” her tone shifted, smile dropping into a frown as she pulled her hands away. His grin faltered as well. “After news of Haven I wasn’t sure if you were alive or…You know if it wasn’t for Garrett—”

Varric was about to interject when he caught two people approaching.

“Is this a bad time?” The Inquisitor. Aurelie. Hawke stood next to her, an amused expression on his face. Well, a more amused expression than he usually wore. Varric would have to have words with him later about all this. “We can come back.”

“Garrett, you didn’t tell Varric I was coming, did you?” Bethany immediately scolded her older brother. Hawke tried to play innocent, glancing up at the ceiling as he pursed his lips in thought.

“You know, it must’ve slipped my mind when I last wrote him,” his words were laced with sarcasm. Varric groaned. Aurelie only watched on in bewilderment. “I figured, oh, what a wonderful surprise this would be for Varric!”

“I think I nearly gave him a heart attack,” Bethany protested, waving her hand in Varric’s direction. So he really had looked that shocked to see her. The two siblings seemed poised to continue to bicker.

“Inquisitor. You’ve already met Hawke.” Varric interrupted the two. He waved a hand towards Bethany. “Allow me to introduce you to Hawke’s little sister, Bethany. Also Hawke.”

“Sunshine, Bethany,” he gestured back towards Aurelie. “This is the Inquisitor. Lady Aurelie Trevelyan of too many important names and titles.”

Aurelie laughed at that, as did Hawke. Bethany only widened her eyes in shock, flushed with embarrassment.

“Oh, where are my manners?” Bethany gathered her skirts to curtsy. She shot a glare at Hawke before beaming a smile at Aurelie. “Inquisitor. It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Please, if you are a friend of Varric’s, you may call me Aurelie,” she insisted, much to Bethany’s further chagrin. “Hawke tells me that you’ll be studying with our mages here? Feel free to make use of any resources that you need. Varric can talk to Josephine to make sure you need anything.”

That was news to Varric. He too shot a side-glance at his Champion-friend. Had time to tell the Inquisitor this information but not his most beloved dwarf?

“Thank you,” Bethany replied earnestly. “I’ll try not to get in anyone’s way.”

“Why don’t I—”

As if Hawke could sense that Aurelie was about to play the diplomat, he intervened.

“Why don’t _you_ give Bethany a tour of Skyhold?” Hawke suggested, pointing to Varric. There was a deviousness in his tone that had Varric skeptical all over again. What was he playing at? “Don’t we have business to attend to in the war room? I can’t wait to see Commander Cullen again and talk his ear off about this Warden situation.”

“Oh,” Aurelie made a face of realization and blinked several times, as if she was catching onto whatever Hawke was loosely implying. _That_ , or she was distracted by the mention of _Curly_. Varric pursed his lips, unamused. “Right. I’m sure we’ll have time to chat later.”

The Inquisitor departed first, with Hawke beaming with a sort of self-satisfaction only the Champion of Kirkwall could pull off.

“Don’t you have important business to attend to?” Bethany mocked him. He only nodded.

“By the way darling,” Hawke whispered before leaving. “You only curtsy to royalty!”

Bethany’s jaw locked in annoyance as her brother dashed to meet up with the Inquisitor, the two disappearing into the hall leading to the war room. She eventually looked at Varric with a worried expression.

“Is he…right?”

Varric couldn’t help but chuckle at her self-doubt. “Aurelie doesn’t give two shits who bows or curtsies to her. Just don’t kiss her boots.”

“Right.” Bethany looked at him expectantly, folding her hands over her stomach. “I’m sorry that Garrett didn’t tell you. If it makes you feel any better, I thought he had.”

“Don’t worry,” Varric assured. “I’m sure he had his reasons.” Reasons even Varric was unsure of.

Bethany lifted her head to take in the scenery around her. “So…a tour?”

“You lucked out,” Varric started, and gestured for her to follow him. “I know everything there is to know about this place.”

“Really?”

“ _No_.” Varric scoffed and Bethany rolled her eyes. He led her through the hall towards the throne. “But you know how great I am at grandstanding. And storytelling. Which do you prefer?”

“Go ahead,” she relented with a smile. Varric could feel the awkwardness from before melting away. “Could you at least tell me _some_ truths?”

“Fine.”

They made a path through the garden, Varric pointing out the still under-construction Mage’s tower. Bethany further explained how she planned to spend her time in Skyhold, helping Fiona’s mages study relics and tomes. She never was very talented at healing, or so she said, and hoped to learn from the best living at Skyhold.

After the garden came the eastern ramparts, Varric not bothering to show her the inside of the armory just in case the Seeker was still brooding inside. The last thing he needed was to surprise Cassandra with _another_ Hawke. They moved past the Herald’s Inn, the two leaning in if only a moment to spot the Bull’s Chargers in the middle of a drinking contest with some new recruits.

“Don’t let Iron Bull see you without me or Hawke,” Varric warned. “You’re not a redhead but…”

“But what?” Bethany asked. Varric didn’t bother to elaborate, grateful she was still somewhat naive.

The dilapidated rooms along the ramparts gave Bethany pause. “Why is there an axe in this bed?”

“You’ve read Isabela’s books. Use your imagination, Sunshine,” he laughed as her face flushed with color. Her hand jolted away from the handle of the weapon.

Eventually they made their way to Cullen’s office.

“Looks sturdy.” Bethany eyed the desk wearily. “I still can’t believe the Knight-Captain joined the Inquisition.”

“Not his title anymore, remember?” Varric clarified. Bethany nodded in agreement as they moved on.

Back in the lower courtyard, Bethany was mesmerized by the horses in the stable. Varric watched her for some time, and even thought about convincing Master Dennet to let them take two mares out into the snowfields around Skyhold before noticing the sun was beginning to set. The crows from Leliana’s tower flushed out as the evening bell rang, and the two of them looked up as the cloud of birds departed to fly to their destinations. It became quiet, just the bustling of the trees around them as nearby workers stopped to make their way to the kitchens for supper. The ravens reminded him of his letters—letters he was supposed to have written.

“I did mean to write to you sooner, Sunshine,” Varric broke the silence. He needed to say it, as he meant to before. She regarded him, almost as if she was judging if he was telling the truth. He tried to not let his expression change too much. He was being honest. For once. “I’d explain more, but I think it would sound like a bunch of excuses, or bullshit.”

“All of the stuff that happens to you sounds like bullshit, Varric.”

At first, Varric was surprised, but then couldn’t help the laughter that rumbled through his chest at her remark. Bethany was laughing too. As their merriment subsided they stood in a kind of quiet that Varric could only describe as content. He placed his hand on her back as he led them up the stairs to the upper courtyard. She rested her hand on his shoulder, steadying herself as they walked.

“It really is nice to see you again, Varric,” Bethany’s smile was almost sheepish. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Sunshine.” Varric didn’t miss a beat in replying. He contemplated saying more but noticed the crowd of refugees gathering at the Herald’s Rest. Even from their spot in the courtyard he could hear Hawke’s laughter. “Should we join them?”

Sure, nothing in Varric’s life ever went as planned, but he was damn good at improvising with the hand he was dealt.


	2. Coup de foudre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Typical Orlesian bullshit occurs at the Winter Palace. Varric has some memories, Bethany has some feelings, and Hawke has excellent timing. Also, Alistair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to whomever may be reading this. I hope you'll consider commenting, leaving a kudos, and even bookmarking. :) 
> 
> -
> 
> I used an old one-shot of this pairing for a small part of this chapter and a large part of the next. So it may seem a little familiar, but only in a scene or so. Enjoy.

_Kirkwall, 9:34_

_“I can’t believe Garrett killed the Arishok in single combat.” Bethany’s eyes shined with a mesmerized glint as Varric recalled the tale for her._

_They sat in an isolated alcove of the Gallows Courtyard, hidden by the cover of night. It was risky for her to sneak away, but the Templars had their share of work cut out for them in the clean-up of the Viscount’s Keep._

_“Are you sure you’re telling me the truth?”_

_“Would I lie to you, Sunshine?” Varric grinned._

_Bethany copied him, though her smile didn’t reach her eyes. That hadn’t happened since before her mother was murdered earlier in the year. **That** was something Varric had wished he could lie about. Hesitantly, he reached out to place his hand over hers. _

_“Did you get my letter?”_

_Bethany shook her head, and her disposition changed. “They keep confiscating them. Classifying them as love letters.”_

_“Damn,” Varric cursed. He squeezed her fingers and eyed the way her frown only increased. “And here I thought I kept the lewdness to a minimum…I didn’t even mention my—”_

_“Varric!”_

_“Shh!” he hushed her, pulling on her hand so she was closer to him. She giggled softly, head ducking into his shoulder to stifle her sounds. “Do you **want** us to get caught?” _

_Her laughter slowly died down and Bethany leaned away from him, again a serious look in her eyes. Varric reached up to tuck the loose strands of hair from her brow behind her ear._

_“No,” she locked eyes with him and was silent for a long moment before continuing. “Varric I don’t think we—”_

_“I know.” It was his turn to interject._

_He could sense this was coming, but he didn’t want to be the one to say it. Their meetings had become more and more infrequent, and with the ever changing political climate in Kirkwall, the harder it was to maintain a clandestine relationship with a mage. If you could call stolen kisses and hand-holding a relationship. The death of Leandra only distanced Bethany further. Varric couldn’t, and would never, blame her. She hadn’t moved away, solemnly looking down at their clasped hands._

_“Keep sending me letters,” she finally spoke. Her eyes flicked back up to his face. “Never stop writing to me.”_

_“I’ll make sure to remove the lewd comments then?” he asked._

_“And miss an opportunity to embarrass a Templar who reads them?” She shook her head. “Don’t you dare.”_

_Varric eyed her for a moment, wondering for a brief moment what it would be like if they weren’t in such dire circumstances. “We’ll have to try this again one day, Sunshine.”_

_“When society is done locking up mages, perhaps.” Bethany nodded. “And the Qunari aren’t waging a war.”_

_“When the world isn’t burning?” he suggested._

_“When nugs fly?” she countered. Varric smirked, amused at the notion, even if it bruised his ego slightly._

_Bethany eventually stood up, holding onto his hand until he followed suit. And then, she leaned down the small fraction she needed to do so to close the distance between them, her hands framing his face as she brought him in for a kiss. A last kiss—not nearly as long as he would’ve liked. She moved to place a second kiss to his temple. Varric could only shut his eyes to keep himself grounded in the moment._

_“I’d like that.”_  


* * *

 

  
_Orlais, 9:41_

The memory had come to Varric out of nowhere. Dwarves didn’t _dream_ , but that didn’t stop his mind from wandering in the waking hours, taking him back to a time he thought he had moved on from.

Kirkwall had been in his thoughts more frequently than not as of late, and it all had to do with _both_ Hawkes’ presence in the Inquisition. The investigation into the missing Wardens was taking longer than expected, so Garrett Hawke stayed in Skyhold to lend support when needed. As such, this extended Bethany’s stay with the Inquisition as well.

Nearly a month had passed since their initial arrival, and while Hawke was more frequently out in the field with the Inquisitor and her agents, he was still grateful to have one of his closest friends around. It wasn’t Kirkwall, but the two still managed to stir up their fair share of fun and trouble. When Hawke was away, Varric found himself spending more time with Bethany. He would observe her studies with the mages, and he even helped her gather herbs from the Skyhold mountainside, as much as he loathed the cold. She would sit with him as he took care of his Merchant’s Guild correspondence, giggling as she “proof-read” the letters to make sure they weren’t _too_ snarky before sealing them.

At first, the more time he spent with Bethany, that initial awkwardness Varric had felt when they were reunited had disappeared. He was settling into a familiarity he hadn’t had since crossing the Waking Sea. Their friendship had picked up right where it left off, but sometimes, in the quiet moments, Varric would wonder if he could really classify their relationship just so plainly. She’d tease him about something he’d mentioned in one of his letters, remind him of something he’d said to her _years_ ago and it would send his gut into a spiral. He thought he had lived a life of minimal regrets. Yet, he would look at Bethany when she wasn’t paying attention and wonder— _what if_?

The memory flashed in Varric’s mind again. Kirkwall. How he would do anything to be standing in the Gallows instead of the Winter Palace courtyard.

“A dwarf in Orlais,” Varric mumbled to himself as he climbed the stairs leading to the palace gates.

He made sure to size up—quite literally—every person he passed. He stuck out, but maybe this was why Josephine had insisted he join the event in the first place. All for _the Game_. It was also why Hawke had also joined, or at least a rumor that the Champion of Kirkwall would be in attendance. In reality, he was scouting to the East in the Western Approach with some of the Inquisitor’s most trusted companions—Blackwall and the Iron Bull to name a few. The rest were in Orlais, just like Varric, dressed in finery to be paraded about while the peace talks were underway.

By the time Varric reached the Vestibule, he was uncomfortable and cranky. He tugged at the collar of his tailored jacket, and looked around for a more familiar face. At first he only saw the Commander—Cullen standing near the top of the stairs with a pensive look. Beyond him were Josephine and Leliana at the large door to the ballroom, presumably waiting for their Inquisitor so they could make their grand entrance together. Just as he started to think about what kind of gaudy dress her female advisors had drowned her in, Aurelie appeared at the top of the staircase, escorted by the Grand Duke Gaspard. She was dressed much more elegantly, the ball-gown she wore made of flowing silk and lace. In a daring statement, the fabric cut low across her back, as if to purposely leave her exposed.

Varric was impressed, and judging by the hushed whispers around him, so was the court of Orlais. He watched as Cullen fumbled over a greeting, bowing politely. He stumbled over a proper compliment, and instead fell silent when Aurelie called him _handsome_. The exchange amused Varric to no end— _this_ would be going in the book for sure.

“He looks like he’s been struck by lightning,” he spoke aloud as a body moved behind him. He might as well join in on the gossip with the court.

“ _Coup de foudre.”_

Varric turned at the familiar voice and nearly swallowed his tongue. Bethany had snuck up on him, and surprised him in more ways than one. While not as _dolled-up_ as the other Inquisition members, she was dressed in a stylish floor-length gown, one of Ferelden design. Deep red velvet, accented with gold—it got him thinking of Kirkwall again. He cleared his throat, glancing back at the Commander and Inquisitor exchanging pleasantries. _Awkwardly_. Varric vowed to not fall into _that_ much of a stupor. He grinned at Bethany, exaggerating his bow to her.

“M’lady, if I do say so myself, you are looking _exquisite_ this evening,” he noted her bashful smile. “If you aren’t careful, they might mistake you for Orlesian nobility.”

 “Oh hush,” she waved her hand at him while using the other to try and cover her amused expression.

Varric shrugged. “I didn’t know you spoke Orlesian, Sunshine. You’ll have to translate for me.”

“You were saying that Cullen looked like he had been struck by lightning,” she started. “Coup de foudre. Though, that’s the _literal_ term.”

She seemed to hesitate when Varric raised a curious brow for her to continue. “It’s more commonly known as, well, love at first sight.”

“Damn Orlesians and their romance,” he softly chuckled. “A phrase for everything, giving me a run for my money.”

Bethany didn’t respond, and he wondered if that was the reaction she was looking for—or if she was even looking for one at all. He didn’t want to think about it. Varric shook his head, focusing on the mission at hand as a loud bell rang out. The Inquisitor would make her grand entrance, and then one by one her entourage of advisors and companions would be introduced to the court. _That_ was more trivial than some imaginary romance. Still, he offered his arm to Bethany with a smile.

“ _The Game_ calls us, Sunshine.”

As expected, Aurelie’s entrance alongside Gaspard was calculated, the herald of the ball taking his time in calling the names of those who passed through the doorway. Leliana must’ve paid him off to stretch out the fanfare.

_“The Lady Inquisitor, Aurelie Trevelyan, daughter of Bann Trevelyan of Ostwick. Vanquisher of the rebel mages of Ferelden, crusher of the vile apostates of the mage underground, and Herald of Andraste.”_

Varric rolled his eyes. “This guy writes better fiction than I do.”

“I’ve already heard so many titles, you’d think we were in a library,” Bethany mumbled back as they slowly walked behind the procession of people.

Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine had their share of flourish as well. Vivienne and Cassandra’s introductions were long enough that he almost didn’t notice the announcer presenting him. They didn’t introduce Bethany—most likely to spare her the inevitable questions of where her brother was. She didn’t seem to mind, instead holding an amused grin.

“Renowned?” she questioned. “I thought your books didn’t sell in Orlais.”

“Ouch!” He mocked her with a pained expression. “At least they didn’t call me _Lord_.”

After the last of the Inquisition companions had been introduced, Aurelie and her advisors approached the Empress for a more private conversation. At least, as private as the ballroom dancefloor allowed for. Varric made sure to slip away as soon as Josephine wasn’t looking, deciding that Aurelie would come find him if he was needed. Bethany followed suit, though she seemed much more uncomfortable with her surroundings than he was. He led them to the garden, hoping the fresh air would calm her nerves.

“Shouldn’t we mingle?” she asked, looking around. “Or at least people watch and gossip?”

“Sounds delightful. But first, some fancy wine,” he suggested, stopping one of the wait-staff as they passed. Bethany took two glasses from the tray and passed one along to him, the two clinking the sides together in a silent cheer. While it tasted just fine, Varric couldn’t help but make the joke. “Is that despair I taste?”

When Bethany didn’t respond, Varric followed her line of sight across the courtyard towards a gathering of people. She glanced at him for a moment before looking back. “Is that…?”

“What?” He stared until he could clearly see she was staring at an unexpected guest indeed. The King of Ferelden. “King Alistair?”

Bethany whipped her head back to Varric with a bewildered expression. “Why are you so nonchalant? That’s _King Alistair_!”

“ _Yes_ ,” he agreed, before waving his hand towards another grouping of people. “And there’s the Queen of Antiva, probably. Also, I’ve met the guy, remember? Rivaini and I helped him a few years ago now.”

Realization washed over Bethany’s face as she nodded. “Those letters didn’t have a lot of detail, Varric. For all I know that was some strange fever dream you had after leaving Kirkwall.”  

“Would I lie to you, Sunshine?” Varric noted the way she titled her head with an arched brow. “Don’t answer that.” He gestured towards the King. “I could introduce you, if you’d like.”

Bethany’s face went white and he nearly laughed at how she flattened her hands against the skirt of her dress, smoothing out the fabric. “Oh—right. Of course.”

“Remember, you _curtsy_ to the King.” Varric teased as he took her arm once more.

As they approached the group surrounding the King, Varric caught Alistair’s eye and the man did a double-take, his dignified demeanor disappearing as he waved for the person he was talking with to shut up. A bright smile lit up his face.

“Varric Tethras! _Finally_ , a familiar face.” Alistair didn’t seem to care that his guests were slowly departing from around him. “Are you here with the Inquisition? A little birdie had told me you were serving with them now.”

“You know me, can’t keep myself out of trouble for too long.”

“Indeed,” Alistair agreed. His eyes shifted to Bethany, and for a moment, scrutinized the way her arm was draped around Varric’s. “Who is your lovely companion?” His eyebrows seemed to _waggle_. “You never told me you had married.”

“I’m not—” Varric countered, and glanced to see Bethany’s face had turned a similar shade to her dress. She moved away from Varric a fraction. He was reminded again of why some thought the King of Ferelden to be just a silly man—it was the Queen who was the real diplomat. Varric knew that was just one side of the coin, of course. King Alistair was more than capable as a ruler.

“This is Bethany Hawke,” he finally introduced and watched as she curtsied. “The Champion of Kirkwall’s little sister. She’s staying with the Inquisition for now.”

Alistair nodded for a moment, and Varric could tell the King knew there was likely more to the story. But there were ears everywhere, and he wouldn’t risk giving up Hawke’s location, or Inquisition business. Instead of pressing for more information, he slyly took Bethany’s hand and dipped it in greeting.

“A pleasure.”

“Oh!” She seemed startled by his action. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” She held onto his hand for much longer than Alistair had intended.

Varric cleared his throat, and Bethany glanced down at him, her blush not fading in the slightest as she finally pulled her hand away. At least he had more blackmail to use later on.

“What brings you to the Winter Palace?” Varric asked. He took a larger sip of wine as the King pulled a face.

“Does anybody ever really know why they are invited to Halamshiral?” he joked. “Peace talks? Though I’m not sure what Ferelden has to offer at this time.” 

“I don’t envy you one bit, Your Majesty.”

Alistair stared longingly into his cup of wine at the comment, and sighed. “It would be easier if Evelyn were here.”

Bethany looked to Varric, her brows knitted together in concern. He had only met the Queen of Ferelden—the _Hero_ of Ferelden—Evelyn on a few occasions. It was always when Alistair was leaving Denerim to take passage on Isabela’s ship, the Queen entrusting the pirate and dwarf to keep her husband safe. For the brief encounters Varric had had with the woman, he knew that she was a kind soul, and worked tirelessly to keep Ferelden a safe place after the Blight. She was one of those rare people that lived up to the reputation build around her. Mostly though, all Varric knew her as was Alistair’s love—a story for the ages.

“How is the ol’ ball and chain?” he asked, remembering the nickname Alistair liked to use.

Even though Alistair offered a small smile, the sparkle was missing. “I’m afraid she’s not present at court,” he explained, before lowering his voice. “There’s been no contact for months. Even _I_ can’t stall the nobles for very much longer with silly excuses as to where she’s gone. ‘ _Warden Business’_ only gets you so far, even as King.”

“I’m sorry to hear.” Bethany sympathized. Alistair nodded and Varric could tell the man was getting sick of hearing condolences on his disappeared wife, even if they did not know the whole truth.

“You know, I could have people look into that,” Varric offered. “Think of it as just another royal favor I can cash-in later.”

Alistair’s smile was a little more solemn. “Thank you Varric, but I’m afraid Leliana has already diverted many of her top agents to search for Evelyn.” He explained. “If the Inquisition cannot find her, I doubt the Merchant’s Guild could.”

“You underestimate the dwarves,” Varric countered, pausing to drink from his glass.

Bethany took this opportunity to bring up an obvious, overlooked point. “We could ask Ser Stroud when Hawke makes contact in the Western Approach.”

Alistair held a knowing look, while Varric nearly choked on red. “Say that louder for the spies, Sunshine.”

She covered her mouth with her fingertips, while Alistair turned his attention to Varric. “Stroud and Evelyn worked together when rebuilding the Amaranthine Wardens. The Inquisition is investigating Wardens, right? They may have crossed paths.”

“Who says we are investigating Wardens?” Varric asked, narrowing his eyes at the King. Alistair arched his brows up in surprise and sipped his glass of wine, feigning innocence.

“What?”

Before Varric could ask any more questions, the three of them were interrupted by Lady Fleur, one of Celene’s ladies-in-waiting. She leaned as she waved at the King in some sort of Orlesian greeting.

“Your Majesty, King Alistair,” she started. “The Empress wishes to speak with you in the ballroom. At once.”

“You hear that?” Alistair smirked. “ _At once_.”

Varric watched as the King followed the lady out of the garden, briefly wondering when the next time he’d encounter the man. He also made a mental note to ask Leliana if she had been sharing Inquisition secrets with him, even though she had told Varric otherwise. Not that it was a huge concern of _his_ , but perhaps the Inquisitors?

Bethany let out a solemn sigh that brought him back to the moment. He looked up to find her frowning into her cup.

“That was…rather depressing, don’t you think?”

“How so?”

“Well…” Bethany trailed. “I always thought of the Hero of Ferelden’s story to be so _romantic_. It’s this epic tale of fortune and glory and in the end, the female hero saves the day, and marries the love of her life.” She moved to place the glass on the nearby bench. “Turns out, the fairytale doesn’t have much of a romantic ending. She’s missing, and he’s lonely.”

Varric wasn’t sure how to respond. “I’m sure not all heroes are affected by this.”

“Hardly.” Bethany’s expression steeled. “Even my _brother_ suffered the safe fate. Sure, his relationship with Isabela isn’t…conventional, but perhaps it could be, if they could spend more time together. But _no_ , he has to spend most of his life running from the Chantry, the Inquisition, the Templars…”

“Sunshine…” Varric tried to intervene, wondering where this was all coming from.

“Who’s to say the same thing won’t happen to the Inquisitor and the Commander after Coryphaeus is defeated?” Finally, she seemed to be finished with her rant and silence filled the space between them. She looked embarrassed.

“I stand corrected,” Varric muttered, and shot back the rest of his drink. “This is why I don’t write the shit.”

Bethany’s expression seemed to worsen, which wasn’t what Varric intended. He was about to suggest they sneak away to the private party Dorian had mentioned happening in the lower gardens when he noticed the Inquisitor approaching. She seemed to have urgent news.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Bethany shook her head and Varric waited for Aurelie to tap her nose. That was the signal. A little _on the nose_ , they had joked, but it would have to do in their current setting. Before she could usher them away, Varric thought of something to save face. He quickly grabbed Bethany’s hand, cupping her fingers in a way so that he could bring it to his lips. He gently kissed her knuckles, flashing a wink and chuckling as she flushed with color.

“Romance ain’t dead yet, Sunshine.”  
 

* * *

 

  
Bethany spent the next half hour in the garden unsure of what to do. At times, she felt lost without Varric’s companionship, but only because they had been spending so much time together as of late. Ever since she had come to Skyhold with her brother, _much to Varric’s surprise_ , most of her time had been spent with the dwarf, even when she was supposed to be studying with the Inquisition mages. It was a relief to have a familiar face in the hold, other than Garrett. Sure, there was Commander Cullen, but Varric was somebody she could trust. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so happy.

Bethany smiled to herself as she looked down at her hand, brushing over her knuckles with a thumb. A warm feeling washed over her chest and she rolled her eyes, internally yelling at herself for allowing feelings from nearly a decade ago to resurface. She admitted, to nobody but herself, that she still harbored a small flame for the man, even after all this time. It was easy for Bethany to hold a soft spot for anyone, but Varric was special. But now, she was older, and with those memories behind her, she felt foolish about the way her heart nearly leapt from her chest when she first saw him in the Skyhold great hall.

Perhaps it was the letters. They had stayed in written contact the entire time, even if the correspondence dwindled when the two were far away or isolated. For the most part they were informative; letting each other know where they were and what they were doing. Now and then they would trail into random thoughts, and memories of the past, including their own. As much of a feat as it was, they had kept it a secret from _everyone_ , or at least nobody had informed them they knew. In the letters, they didn’t have to hide. 

She had tried to move on, but nothing had ever felt right, even with Varric’s written encouragement. Instead, she found herself holding back in other relationships until eventually she found herself with the Inquisition. With Varric. Everything seemed to click into place. Bethany was almost sure about the way she was feeling. But what did _he_ think? She didn’t want to have any regrets.

The change of scenery did nothing to help quell her emotions. She had foolishly brought up _romance_ far too many times. Maker—the King had thought she was his _wife_! With a groan, she decided it was best to return to the ballroom. Perhaps she would be swept off her feet by a random Orlesian noble and fall in love. Problem solved. Instead she ran into a familiar figure, his smirk something she could recognize even if he was burnt to a crisp. Her brother, Garrett Hawke.

“Don’t ever say I didn’t have good timing.”

Bethany looked at him flatly. “For what exactly?”

As if right on time the nearest doors opened, and the Inquisitor shot through, her dress swapped for rogues’ armor. She made a beeline for Cullen, panic on her features. “Detain the duchess. She’s the assassin!”

Bethany whipped her head back to Hawke and he only flashed another grin. Quickly following Aurelie were Dorian, Cassandra, and Varric. They too had changed out of their Inquisition finery to armor. Just where had they been? What had they been doing? Aurelie and Cullen rushed across the ballroom, and Inquisition guards moved into position as the Inquisitor called out for Duchess Florianne to stand down.

“Now!”

Hawke pulled Bethany closer to him as Florianne’s spies attacked. She froze, and watched as people in the room started to move in a panic. The duchess quickly escaped out towards the Winter Palace courtyard, but Aurelie was hot on her trail, not before instructing Cullen to protect the people. The other Inquisition members in the ballroom quickly escorted guests to safety, those who were secretly armored or holding weapons rushing to dispose of the duchess’ plants.

“Come on, let’s get to the courtyard!” Dorian ran after Aurelie, Cassandra following suit. Varric hesitated, the only one to notice that Hawke had seemingly materialized out of thin air.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Orlais?” he asked.

Hawke chuckled in response. “I _am_ in Orlais.”

“You know what I mean,” Varric waved his hand at the man before switching his attention to Bethany. “Sunshine, are you okay?”

She nodded. “Yes. What’s happening?”

“Typical Orlesian bullshit,” he answered, before pulling his crossbow from his shoulder and nodding towards the door. “Let’s go.”

While Bethany ran with them to the courtyard, she wasn’t sure how much help she would be without a staff. It wasn’t always easy for mages to focus their casting without one—not impossible, but difficult. She instead trailed behind Varric, who rushed to find cover behind one of the bushes. Hawke had ran ahead, happily pulling his daggers from his back as he leapt into the fray.

“I’ve come to save the day!”

“I’ve missed that man,” Varric commented.

As sounds of fighting rang out around her, Bethany looked to Varric. He took the periodic shot from behind cover, and she would spot him, careful to watch their flank. “What do you need me to do?” she shouted above the chaos.

“Here, hold this.” Varric didn’t give Bethany a chance to dispute as he handed her a handful of explosive charges, her eyes widening as he struggled to reload his crossbow—it looked like the pin was stuck. “Come on now Bianca baby, don’t quit on me now.”

She blinked, looking between Varric and the weapon, before shaking her head. Now was not the time to conjure up _jealous_ feelings about a feminine named crossbow. Instead she focused on the barrage of arrows coming overhead. A few stuck through the wall next to Varric’s head. Another arrowhead shot through the wall, closer to Varric and Bethany felt the panic rising. After a third arrow caused his hair to fly upwards, she pulled him aside, just in time for a fourth arrow to pierce the spot he was standing in.

He could only smirk at her. “Thanks, Sunshine.”

With that, he grabbed a grenade from her and lit it with a match, peeking over the wall before tossing it. It wasn’t long before he had dispersed all the explosives in the enemies’ direction, and _Bianca_ was in working order. As the fight continued, Bethany found herself shooting the occasional firebolt from her fingertips, much to Varric’s surprise. Dorian kept her guarded with a mana shield, and even laughed as she shook her hands in mild pain after sending down an electric shock to a soldier with a shield.

It took longer than expected, but eventually, Aurelie cut down Florianne. It was a sight to behold, really, for Bethany, watching as the Inquisitor emerged from battle breathless, but nearly unscathed. She was covered in her enemies’ blood, and had a triumphant glow. It was admirable, unlike the shit-eating-grin her brother held as he danced in place nearby. The fool. Aurelie was amused, but she quickly directed the group back towards the palace.

The party wasn’t over yet.   

* * *

 

  
It was a long night. Bethany didn’t bother to stick around for the negotiations, knowing somebody would inform her of Orlais’ outcome in the morning. Josephine and another noble helped escort her to her own private suite for the evening. She was overwhelmed by the size, never knowing what it was like to have her own space. Living life in Lothering, Lowtown and the Gallows didn’t give her much space. Now, she was surrounded by gold and silk, and even if it was temporary, she would relish in it.

She began to retire for the evening, changing from her velvet dress into her nightgown and coat. Still, she admired the dress she had worn that evening, smiling when remembering the way Varric had complimented her. Again, she found herself frustrated and closed her eyes, wondering if it was a good idea to come to Skyhold in the first place. Garrett made it seem like she would have fun, and while was was— _having fun—_ there was something off.

Just as she hung the dress back up, she heard the balcony door handle wiggle. Her heart lurched forward and she glanced around for the nearest object she could use as a weapon before a second thought entered her mind. What if…? She slowly approached the door, cursing the fact she had closed the curtains in order to sleep. Hesitantly, she opened pulled down on the knob, and jumped back as the weight of a person came barreling into the room.

Again, she was _not_ surprised to see her brother. She glared at him.

“Expecting somebody else?”

Bethany only rolled her eyes and watched Hawke close the door behind him, his eyes scanning the room before he fell face-first onto the nearby chaise lounge. She grimaced, noting that he was still covered in blood.

“I think Varric would just knock.”

As soon as she said it, she widened her eyes, knowing it wasn’t wise. _Curse her thoughts._ Her brother sharply turned his head, his eyes gleaming as he looked at her from his awkward position.

“And just why would Varric be visiting you at such a clandestine hour, dear sister?”

When she couldn’t come up with a clever answer, she stayed silent, and hoped Garrett couldn’t see through her expressions. He was the _last_ person she wanted to be talking to about Varric—at least about this specific topic. After all, Garrett knew nothing about their past. Who knew what he would think. Her brother leaned up the more the silence dragged on.

“I’m glad the two of you are spending time together, but I hope nothing serious is developing!” He wagged his finger.

Bethany knitted her eyebrows together. She didn’t like what he was insinuating. “And why not? Why exactly did you push for me to come to Skyhold then? _And_ keep it a secret from Varric?”

Garrett pondered that with a finger to his chin. “I may have been drinking when I made that decision. Also, Isabela.”

“Fuck you.”

“ _Language_!” Garrett gasped. His expression softened a bit as realization hit him. Bethany shifted, uncomfortable. It seemed the preverbal cat was out of the bag. “Wait. Beth.”

He shifted so he was sitting upright, and could clearly see Bethany. “Do you have feelings for Varric? _Our_ Varric?”

Again, she couldn’t answer. Not without revealing too much. That wouldn’t be fair. But her silence was an answer too, it seemed. Bethany was shocked to see that it had stunned Garrett. He blinked, and he rubbed at the stubble on his chin for what seemed like ages.

“Beth. Varric. Beth. Varric.” He repeated until she moved her foot to kick him in the shin.

“Stop it,” she insisted. “I’m not a child. I wasn’t asking for your opinion anyways.”

Garrett pursed his lips, and surprisingly, didn’t say another word. The two sat in silence, Bethany caught up in her mind and wondering more and more what her brother thought, despite what she had just said. It was all so damn confusing. Bethany did have _one_ question she wanted answered. She wrung her hands together and Garrett seemed to pick up on her nerves.

Finally she sighed out. “Did Varric ever tell you why his crossbow is named Bianca?”

“No.” He shook his head. “The one story he doesn’t tell, I’m afraid.”

Bethany wondered if her brother would lie to her under these circumstances. She looked at his expression, and the softness in his eyes and decided he was telling the truth—for once. She wasn’t pleased with how serious the conversation had turned, and how strange her heart and mind felt after an eventful day.

“Bethany, you know I love you.” Garrett reached over to take her hand. “Just be careful with your heart.”

Bethany nodded. She had a lot to think about.


	3. Après moi, le deluge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More memories, more feelings, and more interrupting Hawke. This time with more liquor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the flux of new readers and comments! Hope you all enjoy this update! 
> 
> Again, I used an old one-shot of this pairing scattered throughout. So it may seem a little familiar, but only in a scene or so. Enjoy.

_Kirkwall, 9:31_

_The Hanged Man. For the last several years, Varric had called the Lowtown tavern his home, occupying the upstairs suite. It wasn’t the nicest place a person could stay in Kirkwall, but it suited Varric more than the Hightown clubs where the Merchant’s Guild elite tended to dwell. No, he liked being amongst the drunkards and thieves. At least they tended to be more honest people than his business partners._

_That evening, it had been an unusually quiet night at the bar. Isabela was off with Hawke on an evening trip to Hightown. For what, Varric was uncertain. He had been left behind by his own request so he could settle other matters. Hawke was almost done procuring the funds needed for the expedition into the Deep Roads, and with that, Varric needed to ensure that it wouldn’t be for nothing. Tonight, instead of rogue companion to Hawke, he needed to play businessman._

_It wasn’t until Varric started going through the stack of letters at his table that he realized he had been neglecting this work for longer than he intended. Ever since he met Hawke, life in Kirkwall had become more chaotic than usual. Not that he minded—it was all fodder for an eventual great story. It helped that Hawke kept interesting company. There was tough-as-nails Aveline, sweet and naive Daisy, the brooding Elf, Blondie (okay, that friendship was questionable, even for Varric), the “Choir-Boy”, ever-flirty Isabela and…Varric smiled as he thought about Hawke’s little sister, Bethany. Sunshine._

_Before he could let his mind wander too much, he glanced over the letters again. People asking for money, people threatening to send assassins, his editor threatening to shred copies of his latest manuscript if there was no update…at least the content of the correspondence was nothing new. He wasn’t sure how long he was writing for when there was a knock at his door._

_“It’s open,” he called. Figuring it was Norah with the evening meal, he didn’t glance up at first._

_“Oh, are you busy?” Bethany’s voice rang out and he looked to find her standing in the doorway. “I can come back.”_

_Varric was surprised at first to find her in the Hanged Man—in his room—by herself. Not that she wasn’t capable of being out-and-about without Hawke or another companion, it just wasn’t the safest idea. Being an apostate in Kirkwall usually didn’t end well. After the initial surprise faded, Varric could only grin as he turned away from his work._

_“No, no!” he assured, gesturing for her to fully enter the room. She did so, letting the door close behind her. It didn’t take Varric long to notice she had brought a small bag along with her. “What brings Sunshine to the Hanged Man?”_

_Bethany’s smile was sheepish. It seemed regardless of how many times he used the nickname, it always made her blush. He’d just have to keep using it._

_“Garrett left me with Mother and Gamlen, who are still fighting about, well, everything.” She sat down in the chair next to Varric when he motioned for her. “So I thought I’d…come see you.”_

_“Glad to know I was your first choice,” he smirked. Bethany’s smile only increased. There was a small pause between them before she moved her bag so it rested on the table._

_“Oh, and Fenris gave me this.” She quickly revealed a bottle of wine. “He said not to ask where it came from. Just to drink it with good company.”_

_“You came all this way to get me drunk?” Varric joked. “My lady Sunshine, just what are your intentions towards this dwarf?”_

_Bethany giggled, her fingers pressing to her lips. “Purely innocent, I assure you.”_

_“We’ll see,” he replied and moved to fetch some mugs from another table. As he poured them, he noted the way she was intently staring at him. He was about to tease her again when she spoke._

_“Varric,” Bethany paused to take a first sip of the drink. “Why do you call me Sunshine?”_

_He didn’t really have an answer for her, but that wouldn’t stop him from coming up with one on the spot. He took a sip of the wine—it was strong, but good._

_“Why not?” he started. Bethany raised an eyebrow at that and he continued. “Kirkwall is a shit-hole. It’s the shit-hole I live in, but I can recognize that it’s not the greatest city in Thedas.” Varric gestured towards her. “You, my dear Sunshine, are the complete opposite.”_

_“Here.” Varric shuffled amongst his letters and found an amber pendant that had been sent to him as some kind of bribe. It matched Bethany’s eyes—he wanted to tell her, but he hesitated as she looked over the gem in her fingers. She smiled, and Varric continued._

_“Compared to the people around here, you’re a walking beam of light. Clean and promising. Beautiful.” He pointed to the pendant, and then her. “Sunshine.”_

_Bethany’s cheeks were flushed with color. She certainly hadn’t been expecting him to say any of that. Neither was he, now that he thought about it. The more he interacted with Bethany, the more he found himself saying things he wouldn’t normally say, doing things he wouldn’t normally do. She made him confused, but in all the most delightful ways he hadn’t felt in a long time._

_“I can call you something else, if that’s what you want,” Varric offered when she didn’t immediately respond._

_She shook her head quickly. “No, I…I like that you call me that.”_

_Bethany observed the amber in her hand for a moment longer before attempting to hand it back to Varric. He only shook his head and hands. “Keep it. As a reminder.”_

_She tucked it away on her person with a sweet smile. An impromptu gift, but Varric hoped she understood its significance. The two both took long sips from their drinks. Bethany glanced at him, eyes scanning over his face._

_“Are you really not afraid of apostates? Me?” she asked. She poured herself some more wine from the bottle._

_Varric shook his head and copied her actions. “I’m a dwarf. In case you missed that detail.”_

_“Dwarves aren’t completely immune to magic, you know.” Bethany swayed a little as she talked. “I could cast a spell on you to test it out.”_

_Varric wondered if it was the wine that had him feeling bold. Could it really be that strong? “I think you’ve already put one on me, Sunshine.”_

_“What?” she blinked, not noticing how close she had leaned towards his him, and his face. But she didn’t move away. Neither did he. She seemed to catch his meaning. “Oh.”_

_The air around them seemed to grow thicker, and Varric only recognized it as tension. He wasn’t expecting this. Was she?_

_“You didn’t answer my question,” she mentioned. “You aren’t afraid of me?”_

_“On the contrary, Bethany.”_

_Her eyes widened a little, and the color on her cheeks darkened. Her gaze dipped to his lips and then back up again. “You said my name.”_

_“Sure did.” He nodded._

_Bethany moved that much closer to him. “You think I’m beautiful?”_

_Varric didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”_

_The signs were there, but Varric wasn’t about to make a move on her. It didn’t matter that he wanted to. Sunshine. Bethany Hawke. The little sister—Andraste’s flaming knickers, what had he gotten himself into? His mind was quick to answer—something he had been wanting for longer than he cared to admit._

_“Varric, if you don’t—”_

_Screw it. Varric closed the distance between them, surprising himself as their lips met. The shock subsided quickly, and Bethany leaned into him, one hand meeting his cheek while the other grasped the front of his shirt. A few fingers dipped to brush over the exposed part of his chest, and he could only grin against her mouth. They lingered for a moment, before Bethany finally pulled away with a small gasp. She didn’t say anything at first, instead the two just staring at each other with somewhat dumbstruck expressions._

_“That wasn’t the wine, was it?” she asked sheepishly. Varric shook his head, and tugged her closer when she tried to move away. Bethany obliged, but still glanced at him skeptically. “Varric…what…”_

_“I’d rather not ruin this by getting sappy,” he commented, stopping her. He shook his head—they could have this discussion, a definition, later. “I’m not good at sappy.”_

_Bethany’s smile slowly returned. She laughed, almost beside herself. “Then kiss me again. Don’t stop kissing me, please.”_

_Varric copied her laugh, leaning back towards her to oblige._

_“Anything for my Sunshine.”_

* * *

  _  
Skyhold, 9:41_

Varric grumbled to himself as he scratched out the words he had just written on the parchment in front of him. It was another busy afternoon of answering bills, solicitations and threats—this time coming from more than just the Merchant’s Guild. Turned out, being part of the Inquisition brought one friends _and_ enemies. Being Varric Tethras just made matters worse. He was trying to find the best way to reach out to his contacts concerning the missing Wardens, but found himself distracted and unable to form the right words. He didn’t want to let King Alistair down, but he was in no shape to write impassioned pleas at the moment.

No, the only words that seemed to want to form in his mind were things he wanted to say to Bethany. Carefully crafted sentences to make her laugh, or better yet, blush with embarrassment. Varric glanced up from the scattering of letters and to the people around him in the great hall. Usually, he was perfectly fine with working alone, but in recent months he had been treated to Bethany’s company. It was almost always constant. He didn’t mean to start to take it for granted, but now that he was sitting there by himself, all he wanted was to find where she was and be _there_ instead.

They had been back from Orlais for nearly a week, and still, he couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened at the Winter Palace. Not between the Inquisition and the Imperial Court—no—he was distracted by matters of the heart. Every interaction as of late seemed to bring back more and more memories of their past, and it made Varric feel more than just nostalgic. It was a feeling he was all too familiar with—slightly terrified, but excited all the same. A feeling he wondered if he had been carrying with him for all these years.

It wasn’t just Varric that was preoccupied by his thoughts. When he _did_ see Bethany in Skyhold, it seemed she was just as unfocused. There wasn’t anything _wrong_ , per se, but something was definitely not right. With him, with her…with _them_. Varric knew it most likely had everything to do with the past, and how it was affecting them now.  

He still cared for Bethany, and it wasn’t a _maybe_ any longer that his care for her was more than just friendship. His only hesitation was he didn’t know how Bethany felt, and didn’t want to assume either. He wasn’t about to risk tarnishing the bond they had only recently been able to recover. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he also knew he’d have deal with Hawke, regardless of the outcome. Varric felt a shiver in his spine that had him shaking his head at the discomfort. He was getting ahead of himself. Maybe it would be better if he just… _asked her_.

It took a while for him to find her in the Herald’s Rest, Cabot nodding to the second floor when Varric inquired about the mage. He passed the bartender a few silver and smiled when the other dwarf handed over a bottle of brandy and two mugs. If he was going to improvise, he would need the liquid courage. Upstairs, she was sitting at a table near a window, her chair turned so she could peer out at the courtyard below. Her chin rested in her hand, and he could see the small contented smile she wore as she people watched. The sun setting beyond the horizon bathed her in a glow that reminded him of why he called her what he did.

“Sunshine.”

Bethany perked up at his voice breaking through the silence. She turned towards him and Varric noted her sudden nervous behavior. She wrung her hands together and bit down on her bottom lip for a moment.

“Hello,” she softly greeted. She eyed the pair of mugs and bottle that he carried. “Where are you going with that?”

Varric shrugged, and moved to occupy the seat next to her. “Well, right here of course.”

He handed her one of the cups and she took it, watching him carefully as he poured some of the amber liquid for her. Her gaze had strayed from the bottle to his face, specifically his mouth. “Enjoying the view?” he asked with a smirk.

“What?” Bethany responded quickly, her eyes darting up to his.

“The sunset,” Varric clarified, motioning to the window. He laughed to himself. Sometimes it was just too easy to tease her. “You were watching it, right?”

“Yes…” she nodded and eyed the liquor in her mug. “What exactly is this?”

“Trust me when I say it’s better than the Abyssal stuff Garrett usually drinks.” He paused to take a large gulp. “It doesn’t _taste like burning_.”

Bethany rolled her eyes, apprehensively taking a small sip. Her eyebrows twitched up and Varric could tell he had made the right choice. “See, I knew you’d like it.”

She was smiling, her demeanor more relaxed than when he first approached. They continued to drink in a comfortable silence, the two just staring at one another. Varric could only grin as a rosy color appeared on her cheeks. She blinked her gaze away.

“What?” she giggled nervously, and reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair back behind her ear.

“There’s that smile.” Varric commented. His tone had dropped, and he hoped she could tell he wasn’t teasing her. Bethany only took another drink of the brandy.

“You’re spoiling me,” she replied. Her hand moved in an effort to hide her blush, but he caught it, cupping her fingers and pulling it away from her cheeks. The move surprised her, but she didn’t pull away.

“You deserve it.”

Bethany’s mouth opened as if she meant to say something, but instead she stayed silent. Between their drinking and conversation, they had scooted closer to each other. It wasn’t lost on Varric that it seemed history was repeating itself in a way. Though, he was certain his heart was beating much faster than it ever did in the Hanged Man. He kept his eyes locked on hers, slipping his hand up her wrist until he was cupping her elbow. With a short tug he brought her closer and used his other hand to brush more strands of her silky hair from her face. She leaned into his touch as he cupped her cheek.

“You’re stunning, you know that?”

A soft gasp fell from her lips as he led her to him. His kiss was soft, but rather quickly he applied more pressure, practically stealing the breath from her. She leaned into him some more, her hand gripping his tightly. He pulled away a moment later, not wanting to get carried away in such a public space. Her expression was still one of surprise, but a small smile lingered as she breathed out.

“Varric?” she snapped a hand to her mouth. “What was that for?”

He leaned back, but squeezed her hand that was still wrapped around his fingers. Looking at her, he found himself momentarily speechless. He had kissed her because it seemed like the logical thing to do at the moment. Because all he had been thinking of lately was how many times he had kissed her in the past. Because he needed to know if it still sparked the same dumbstruck emotions in his brain (it did). He had kissed her because… _he wanted to_.

It was time for a heartfelt confession.

Or, so Varric thought, until the moment was disrupted. A throat cleared from behind them and almost instantly Bethany pulled away, her expression a mix of horror and embarrassment.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

 _Hawke_. Varric closed his eyes tightly for a moment before turning to face his friend. His best friend. _Bethany’s brother_ , the voice in his head reminded him. His face was hard to read—just how long had he been standing there? Varric wondered what Hawke’s reaction would’ve been _if_ he had seen them kissing and decided it wouldn’t be this…reserved. Perhaps it was best to act as if nothing was going on.

“Just some drinks between friends,” he explained.

Hawke glanced between the two, one of his eyebrows arched up. He stared at Bethany for a long moment, and the poor girl just sat with her face growing redder by the moment. Varric couldn’t remember a time Hawke had ever been this quiet for a stretch of time. It unnerved him.

“Varric, I have some business to discuss with you,” he finally spoke. The rogue’s tone had Varric worried. “About the Wardens?”

Bethany took that as her cue to stand up, her hands smoothing out the skirt of her mage robes. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

Her eyes darted from each man as if she wanted to say more, but instead she walked away. Hawke watched her depart down the stairs before wordlessly occupying the seat she abandoned. Varric eyed him nervously as the man poured more brandy for himself.

“So…you have news from the Western Approach?” Varric asked hesitantly.

Hawke’s smirk returned for a fleeting moment as he took a drink before his eyes narrowed in a glare. “Did my eyes deceive me, or were the two of you holding hands?”

Varric sighed as he snatched the bottle to refill his mug as well. This was bound to get interesting. “Is this the part where you threaten me with _hurt my sister, or else_?”

“No,” Hawke responded flatly. “Beth is a grown woman. A grown woman who can set people— _dwarves_ —on fire.”

The mental image had Varric amused, even if it was at his own expense. Hawke shook his head as he drank some more.

“All that being said…” his tone grew serious once more. “I want you to stop leading Bethany on.”

It startled Varric—he wasn’t expecting Hawke to say _that_. Seconds later, he realized just how unfair that was.

“What happened to ‘Beth is a grown woman’?” he argued, before realizing he was revealing more than he intended. He straightened, shaking his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Sunshine and I are just—”

“Varric,” Hawke interrupted him. “Cut the bullshit. I know _everything_.”

Varric swallowed hard, gripping his mug tightly, if only to steady himself. He thought about arguing with Hawke some more, but eventually realized it wasn’t worth it. After all this time of hiding the past, it was bound to surface sooner or later. “How?”

“What do you think?” Hawke chuckled as he removed folded letter from his coat pocket. “How do I know anything?”

“ _Isabela_.” They both spoke, albeit Varric with a groan.

He ran a hand over his face as he tried to snatch the parchment from Hawke. He needed to know if the man knew the _whole_ story. Just how much of Bethany and his private lives been violated? Hawke folded the letter away again, its contents only known to him. Varric would have to tread carefully.

“Look,” he shook his head. “I’m not leading Sunshine on.”

“ _Really_?” Hawke let out a hearty laugh that was laced with sarcasm. “Then what exactly is it that you are doing? This isn’t your usual friendliness, Varric. Bethany’s been in the clouds since we’ve got here…and I’m starting to realize it has everything to do with _you_.”

“Then why in the world did you bring her here?” Varric asked in an accusatory manner. After all, it was the older Hawke sibling that had kept it a secret.

“That was before I realized the two of you were…” Hawke trailed and he looked at Varric for a long while. “Before I leaned the two of you…have a past!”

“We _do not_!” Varric nearly sputtered on his drink. He would fight this—there was no way Isabela knew, and even if she suspected, she would’ve only grandstanded the facts to her lover. “Andraste’s flaming tits, Hawke!”

“I don’t believe you. Isabela told me. She snooped through your letters.”

“You believe _Isabela_?” Varric mocked. “I’m _offended_.”

“ _Varric_ ,” Hawke spoke in a more threatening tone as he leaned towards him. The two men glared at each other for a moment and Varric finally relented with an exasperated sigh.

“We…we kissed, okay?” he threw his arms up in defeat. “A couple of times,” he added with a grumble before falling back in his chair. He swallowed down the last of the brandy in his mug.

Hawke stood up, his chair nearly falling over with the action. He pointed an accusatory finger in Varric’s face, his expression a mix of excitement and self-righteousness.

“I _knew_ it!” The realization caught up with him and he flinched. “Wait. What’s a _couple_ of times?”

Varric paused, eyeing his friend. The liquor they were drinking was _strong_ , but he wasn’t going to let that one slip. “I thought you _knew everything_.”

Hawke pursed his lips together, eyes darting away as he slowly sat back down. He nursed his drink instead of answering Varric.

“ _Hawke_ …”

“I was bluffing.” Hawke showed the letter again, and Varric was surprised to see it was blank. “I didn’t talk to Isabela. But I’d be an idiot—don’t look at me like that—to not notice there was something going on between you two since we arrived.”

“You son of a bitch,” Varric grumbled, but was still impressed. Hawke shrugged, but his frown returned.

“I only thought it was…a _recent_ development, based on her behavior,” Hawke clarified. “You _kissed_ Bethany. When did this happen? How long did this go on for?”

Varric was slightly amused by Hawke’s interrogation. “Do you really need to know how many times I stuck my tongue—”

“ _Stop_!” Hawke raised both of his hands, his eyes snapping shut. He didn’t seem to care that Varric was only teasing. “I’m a pervert, but I’m not a _pervert_.”

Varric sighed, and decided honesty was the best policy for this situation. “Hawke, what happened between Sunshine and I was… _innocent_. Stolen kissed in the Hanged Man and at the docks.” He shifted his tankard, staring down at the amber liquid. The same color as Bethany’s eyes. “It all stopped as soon as she went to the gallows.”

The last part was a lie, but Hawke didn’t need to know that. He didn’t need to know _everything_. Judging by his lack of a reaction, he didn’t seem to know it was a lie anyhow.

“Oh Bethany….” Hawke lamented. It seemed the brandy was starting to get to him—that _and_ the recent discovery. “I can’t believe the two of you. _Varric_!” He pointed at him again. “You did naughty things to my sister. The same naughty things I do to Isabela, you did to sweet, innocent Bethany.”

“Nope.”

As amusing as it would’ve been to string Hawke along, Varric knew it was disrespectful towards Bethany. He shook his head at Hawke as the man continued to judge him, his eyes narrowing until they were finally closed. He was leaning against the table, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You’d have me believe that you _didn’t_ sleep with her?”

“Not that it would be any of your business,” Varric clarified, knitting his brows together. “But no. She got taken to the Gallows, and that was it.”

Hawke nodded with his eyes closed for an eerie amount of time. Varric let him process the information and decided they might as well finish off the bottle of brandy. He poured until both mugs were full again, closing his eyes as he took a sip.

“That explains why she never let me read the letters you sent her.” Hawke smiled cheekily as he looked at Varric, but after a moment, his smile faltered as if he was remembering something else. “She…she asked me about Bianca.”

“Oh.” Varric clenched his teeth, and his stomach dropped. Whatever relief he had felt from finally telling Hawke _some_ of the truth of his past, it had disappeared with one name. He anxiously eyed his friend. “Did you tell her?”

Hawke shook his head and the two both took long drinks from their cups of liquor. Varric had trusted his friend with the story, knowing that despite one the Champion’s reputations of being a big-mouth gossip, Hawke knew how to keep _most_ secrets safe.

“Just don’t ever make me lie to my sister again,” Hawke insisted. “She believed me, and while I’d typically be happy with how well I can lie, it only made me feel incredibly guilty.” He nodded towards Varric. “That’s _your_ story to tell, not mine.”

“Have you heard from her?” Hawke suddenly asked after a moment.

Varric hesitated to say anything. “She still sends me the occasional letter.”

Hawke’s expression shifted as his eyes narrowed again. “Just like…you and Bethany.”

Varric frowned, but agreed. The parallels were there, if he thought about it long enough. Trouble is, he didn’t want to. But it seemed that Hawke did.

“Your letters were keeping Beth’s hopes up,” he explained. “Sound familiar?”

“Admit it Varric,” Hawke continued. “All those letters you still receive from Bianca. They are nice, they make your heart all _goey_ inside. _That’s_ how Bethany feels.”

“But deep down you know that you can never be together. Lest you start a war or some tragic story I don’t know what dwarves do.” He titled his head. “Poor Bethany probably goes through a similar doubt each time the two of you flirt, or…”

Damnit. Hawke was right. Varric hated to admit it, but the man was right. Still, he flashed Hawke a bewildered look.  

“Would you really disapprove that badly?” Varric asked with a frown. “Bethany and me.”

With his clarification, Hawke seemed offended.

“I—” he peered down at his brandy. “No. I love you, Varric.”

“Not the heartfelt confession I was looking for, but I’ll take it.”

Hawke grinned. “You’re like my brother, Varric. My closest friend. And ultimately, despite my better judgement—”

“What judgement?” Varric laughed and Hawke chuckled along with him for a moment.

“I trust you,” Hawke finished, ensuring the seriousness of his tone was displayed. “It’s also why I’ll always call you out on your bullshit.”

Varric nodded at his friend, who pushed the blank parchment towards him, as if in some kind of message.

“If you’re serious about…whatever it is you’re pursuing with Bethany,” he paused. “Please don’t do it half-heartedly. Or with unfinished business.”

Varric knew what he meant. _Bianca_. He took the paper from Hawke and brushed away the uncertainty that was threatening to settle in his mind. He had a letter to write.

* * *

Bethany could not recall a time she had ever felt so mortified. She had left the Herald’s Rest in a rush, not bothering to say another word to Varric or her brother before running off. Had she been of clearer mind, she would’ve stayed and argued her brother’s interruption. But she was far from having a sound mind—not right now. She wondered if she’d even be able to form a coherent sentence if somebody came up to her right then.

Why had Varric kissed her?  

She thought she could only be delighted by his kiss, but now that it had happened, it only left her feeling more confused than ever. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t _think_ about her in some kind of romantic capacity. But he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t given her much of a warning—at least, not clearly. Did they need to talk about their feelings? That was always the hard part—maybe they really could just pick up where they left off, and figure it out along the way. With a frown, Bethany knew that was foolish. No way for a sensible woman to go about a relationship.

Her heart fluttered. A _relationship_. Outside of the circle, away from Kirkwall and no longer on-the-run, she realized that the timing seemed only right for them both. While she knew Hawke hadn’t deliberately set this plan into motion, she was still grateful he had brought her to Skyhold. Otherwise, she was sure she would’ve never known, would’ve never answered the lingering question in the back of her mind. _What if…?_

It was late in the evening when she finally made her way back to the Herald’s Rest. She had not seen either of the men since she left them, but couldn’t wait any longer. She needed to speak with Varric. Delaying the inevitable would only make matters worse. Hawke, she could deal with later.

Maybe.

Bethany groaned as she approached the open tavern door, noting the way her brother stumbled out into the courtyard, an empty bottle tucked under his arm.

“ _Beth_!” he shouted, his arms widening as he recognized her. The bottle fell into the grass, and began to roll away. “Oops.”

“Maker’s breath, Garrett!” she exclaimed as he almost tripped over his own feet. “How much did you drink?”

Hawke leaned against her as she gripped him by the shoulders. His nose brushed against hers and he laughed. “ _Boop_!” Hawke shrugged. “I was alone. I wanted to have fun.”

“Ugh,” Bethany grimaced. His breath was heavy with the smell of brandy and whiskey. He had mixed his liquor, it seemed. A brief thought of how Varric had fared crossed her mind. Where had he gone? “Well I might as well get you somewhere safe.”

“Whys that?” he slurred. Bethany moved to wrap his arm around her shoulder before pushing at his legs so he’d walk.

“Before you say or do anything stupid,” she replied.

It was hard work getting her brother to the second floor garden rooms, made all the more difficult by her decision to avoid the great hall. In likelihood, Varric was there at his usual spot by the fire, and the last thing she needed was to run into him while caring for her drunkard brother. She had a feeling that Hawke had already done enough. By the time she got their private room door open, Hawke was standing on his own, though with every breath he swayed. Bethany still helped him inside, guiding him towards one of the beds.

As she settled him into the sheets, his lips curled into a frown. “Were you ever going to tell me about you and Varric?”

“What?” Bethany nervously laughed, wondering what kind of drunken conversation her brother and Varric had gotten into. She hesitated, unable to read his expression. “Don’t be absurd—”

She broke off when she noticed the small smile that Hawke was now flashing up at her. Despite the haze covering his eyes, she could tell he wasn’t lying, or even asking. He was telling her that _he knew_. Her stomach tightened and she knew there wasn’t anything she could say to convince him otherwise.

“Garrett, why don’t we talk about this when you aren’t so…” she sighed, brushing back his hair affectionately. “ _You_.”

“Can you tell me _one_ thing?” her brother asked in a whisper. “What does his chest hair _really_ feel like?” Isabela won’t tell me.”

Bethany pushed a pillow over his face, shaking her head as he yelped. Eventually, Hawke fell into a blissful slumber—if you could call his loud snoring _blissful_. Bethany rolled her eyes, still in disbelief at what Hawke had said. He knew about her and Varric. But how much? Maker only knew. Now, she had even more to talk to the dwarf about.

She was anxious as she made her way to the great hall, thankful that most of the usual crowd had retired for the evening. There were a few Inquisition guards, but they didn’t acknowledge her presence past a polite nod. She was right about finding Varric where he usually stayed, his body occupying a seat by the fire, piles of parchment spread out before him. Only…he was asleep, leaned back in his chair. Out cold with quill still in hand. Bethany could only smile, even though she was a bit disappointed. Perhaps she could wait one more day.

She was about to move away when one of the many letters before him caught her eye. Guilt made her hesitate—she was never one to snoop through other people’s things. But right now she couldn’t stop herself. She stared at Varric’s sleeping face for a long moment, waiting to see if he would wake up before she brushed her hands over the various papers.

At first, Bethany was confused. The letters she saw were from her. A random selection of some of the letters she had sent over the years. They were in excellent condition, clearly he had worked to preserve them. There were other letters as well. Written in his hand and clearly addressed to her, and yet, they were letters she had never seen before.

 

> _Sunshine,_
> 
> _Are nugs flying yet? I feel like they should be flying with all the shit that is happening. ~~Remember what you said?~~_
> 
> _I keep thinking I’m going to run into you at one of the mage camps. Can’t say that wouldn’t be wonderful—to have you around again. The two of us gallivanting with the Inquisitor and…_

The last word was too scratched out for Bethany to read. But the tone was noticeably different than the letters she _had_ received from him. Sure, there was always flirting, but it was light and sometimes so overzealous that she _knew_ he was joking. With these sentences, it hinted that something more was lingering in Varric’s mind. How long had he been wanting to say something to her?

She searched through the pile of letters until her heart dropped at the final unsent letter at the bottom of the pile. But it wasn’t addressed to her. No, it was addressed to a different familiar name.

 

> _Bianca,_
> 
> _You’ll be happy to hear that I’m alive and in Skyhold. And before you ask, my handsome features were unharmed. I have more news, but that can wait. This felt more important._
> 
> _-V._

He hadn’t sent it, but it only had Bethany wondering _why_ he would write such a letter in the first place if he didn’t mean to send it. A more fragile part of her felt jealous—he had intended to write to this _Bianca_ about surviving the destruction of Haven, and not her? Sure, he had written to Hawke, but that wasn’t the same. She pushed those feelings away and focused on one final letter. It was from Bianca herself, and had been sent while the Inquisition was in Halamshiral.

 

> _Varric,_
> 
> _You say the word, and I’m there._
> 
> _-B._

If only Bethany knew what words had prompted this simple of a response. Her mind began to race, and more than ever she had doubts about _everything_. She tried to smooth out the papers to the way they had been when she found them, but it was no use. She could feel tears starting to cloud her vision and it only alarmed her further. _Maker_ , she thought she would be able to control her emotions, but it seemed she hadn’t even come to terms with how she truly felt until then. And now, she could feel her heart breaking under the pressure. Disappointment. It wasn’t the answer she was looking for when she set out to find him, but it was an answer none-the-less.

She left the great hall quickly, not before leaving something behind.  
 

* * *

   
Varric had woken up to the sounds of footsteps, his head pounding with the painful reminder that he had drank too much. At first, he figured it was an Inquisition soldier come to fetch him for the Inquisitor, but when he finally peeked open his eyes, he realized there was nobody around. It was still dark, the fire next to him dying from being neglected.

And then he saw it on the table, and he had to blink a few times, not sure if he was seeing things correctly. On top of his work sat an amber pendant. Not just any piece of jewelry, but the same one he had given to Bethany nearly a decade earlier. He would’ve recognized it anywhere. But what was it doing _here_ and not with her?

He leaned over the desk and his stomach dropped when he realized the letters had been sifted through while he slept. Within moments he knew that Bethany must’ve read some of them. He frantically tried to determine which ones when he realized it didn’t matter. Even without getting the full story from him, what was there would be enough to make any woman distrustful.

“Well,” Varric gulped as the full realization hit him. He had screwed up, worse than he ever had before. “ _Shit_.”


	4. Cherchez la femme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bianca makes her appearance in Skyhold, Hawke struggles with his facial expressions, and Varric learns that none of this shit is easy. Oh, and I lied before- there most definitely is a Monty Python joke here somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am speedgriffon, destroyer of canon dialogue. It was used here, but in no way that it is used in the game proper. Such is the life of fanfic.

_Kirkwall, 9:31_

_“Another round on me!”_

_Varric could hear Hawke from upstairs. The crowd of the Hanged Man cheered, and the sound only made him smile. Tomorrow morning they would venture into the Deep Roads, so it wasn’t surprising that Hawke chose tonight to celebrate. He had some extra coin after funding the expedition, and wasn’t about to go underground without having ‘one last night of fun’, as he put it. Whether it was wishful thinking or an overzealous case of optimism, Varric didn’t need an excuse to drink with his friends._

_Within a few hours however, he was ready to focus on one person in particular._

_He had easily slipped away to his upstairs suite, Bethany quickly following without anybody, especially Hawke, noticing. It was risky with such a large group, but with the amount of liquor flowing, they were bound to be distracted to notice their absence. If anything, he could spin a story about the two choosing to drink up here in a quieter space instead away from the drunkards and noise._

_The truth of course being that the two wanted just one more quiet moment alone, not knowing when they would have another chance in the near future. It had been a difficult thing—keeping their romance a secret from the others—but in the end had almost made what they had that much more special. It wasn’t what Varric was expecting when he met the Hawke siblings months ago in the Hightown market, but it definitely wasn’t something he was wanting or willing to give up either._

_He absent-mindedly swept his fingers through Bethany’s hair, her head resting on his chest as they laid across his bed. It was innocent enough, the two positioned in a way that they could break away from one another if somebody were to intrude. Despite the threat, Varric felt calm. Content and…happy. He moved his other hand to hold hers, threading their fingers together. She tilted her head up, craning her neck to look at him._

_“You know, Garrett could walk in at any moment.”_

_“Or worse, Isabela,” Varric offered with a chuckle._

_Bethany laughed. “Definitely worse.”_

_He could tell that despite the joking, she was tense. He tapped her shoulder in a silent gesture for her to move and he got up from the bed, quickly making his way towards the door to lock it. He heard her soft giggle from behind him._

_“Either of them could pick that,” she commented._

_Varric only raised an eyebrow at her as he grabbed the nearest chair, wedging the back underneath the doorknob. “There. That should slow them down, at least.”_

_Bethany had shifted so that she was sitting on the edge of the bed as he returned to her. The height of the stone had their heads almost level, for once. He took her hands again, thumbs brushing across her knuckles as he studied her amused expression._

_“Did you know that Isabela tried to buy me a night at the Blooming Rose?”_

_Varric laughed at that. “What? What did you say?”_

_“No! Of course!” Her cheeks were instantly bright. “Maker, I was mortified. She was teasing me about having a lack of…” He raised a brow at her pause. “Experience,” she finished._

_He nodded, and decided not to tease her any further. It wasn’t fair, given their relationship—he knew Bethany was young, unexperienced, as she had mentioned—he would never push her boundaries, and he hoped she knew that._

_“It was difficult not to argue with them and let something slip,” Bethany voiced, a nervous smile pulling at her lips._

_Varric drew closer at that, brushing his nose against hers. “Well, we can’t have that now can we?”_

_She smiled against his lips as he kissed her, both of her arms wrapping around his shoulders to keep him right where he was. He obliged, deepening the kiss as he held the side of her face with one hand, her waist with another. They continued for a few moments longer until finally breaking away for a breath of air._

_Varric noticed she was staring at him with a certain kind of apprehension that had him worried. “What?”_

_“Maybe we should?”_

_“What?” he asked again, leaning away from her, alarmed._

_“Do you think we **should** tell Garrett?” Bethany asked in clarification, her eyes darting away from his face for a moment in a nervous flutter. “After the expedition, I mean. About us.” _

_Varric thought about it for a moment and grabbed her hands, giving them a squeeze. She looked back to him. “Why not?”_

_“Really?” she replied, shock in her eyes. “Just like that?”_

_“Again,” Varric assured. “Why not?”_

_Bethany’s response it seemed was to only laugh out. It really did seem absurd, but he couldn’t justify hiding their secret any longer either. They weren’t doing anything wrong, so what harm would come from sharing what they had with the others? Sure, he knew some of their friends would have…opinions, but that was hardly a deterrent for Varric._

_“Maybe we should surprise him and tell him while we’re in the Deep Roads.”_

_That stopped Varric right in his tracks. Shit. It had completely slipped his mind. Bethany’s smile slowly faded as she noticed the way he had reacted to her exclamation. She was waiting now, for an explanation. Patient as ever, the guilt instantly began to eat at Varric’s gut. He stepped back from her._

_“Sunshine…” He pressed a hand to his forehead. “Damnit, Hawke hasn’t spoken to you yet, has he?”_

_“About what?” Her voice had lowered, and that beautiful smile had completely morphed into a frown. “Varric? What’s going on?”_

_“Hawke isn’t taking you to the Deep Roads,” he spoke flatly. “Your mother came to us this afternoon and pleaded with your brother to make sure he left you behind. She’s terrified that something will happen to you both, and after Carver—”_

_Bethany’s hand raised, silently cutting him off. “You knew?”_

_“I—” Varric decided it wasn’t worth arguing. He had already done enough damage. “Yes.”_

_She straightened, her jaw visibly clenching as she looked away. A long stretch of silence fell over them and every curse word possible floated through Varric’s mind. He should’ve known that Hawke hadn’t told her, based on her happy mood that evening. Suddenly, she stood up, and moved past him. He tried to stop her, but she just solemnly shook her head. Without another word, she moved the chair from the door and left. Varric could only stare at the closed door in disbelief._

_“Well, shit.”_

* * *

 

_  
Skyhold, 9:41_

Varric was getting too old for this shit. Even though he had gotten himself into this mess in the first place, all he could think about was how his feet and back hurt too much to be running around Skyhold day after day trying to find Bethany. But that’s what life was— _pain_. So was love, apparently. _Love_ —the word appearing in Varric’s mind nearly caused him to trip down the library rotunda stairs.

“Shit,” he breathed, bracing himself against the wall.

He pressed a few fingers to the bridge of his nose as he shut his eyes tightly. What in Andraste’s name was _wrong_ with him? _Nothing_ —his mind clarified—not really. Ever since his conversation with Hawke he had been more confused than ever, even with a newfound clarity to the situation. He thought it would be simple. Write a letter—it’s what he did best—send it off to Bianca explaining that he could and would not be able to see her ever again. Done. Then form another new set of words to tell Bethany in person. A confession from the heart. Simple, right?

But that was his mistake. _Nothing_ in Varric’s life was ever simple.

He really needed to find Bethany and sort this all out. He had managed to make amends _last time_ , but that was a completely different situation, under _completely_ different circumstances. It was also a lifetime ago—or so it seemed. To think this had all started with a letter to Hawke in the first place. Sure, it was Hawke who had _—surprise!_ —plopped Bethany right into his metaphorical lap, but it was Varric who had invited him. If he looked back even further, it was he who had dragged the Hawke siblings to the Vinmark Wasteland and straight to Corypheus. If he hadn’t had such a flair for the dramatic and stopped Hawke that day in Hightown? _No_ , it was no use having regrets now. Not just because a few things—a lot of things—weren’t going right in the present.

A strange sense of optimism came over him as he continued down the stairs, thinking to ask Solas if he’d seen Bethany around the castle in the last few days. It was easy for somebody to hide away in a tower, sure, but for this long? The elf was bound to know _something_. And then he heard a familiar laugh. More than one, actually. As he walked through the great hall door instead, near the walkway stood three women. The Inquisitor Aurelie, Bethany, and… _Bianca_.

He thought about going to Vivienne’s balcony and jumping. “You’ve got to be shitting me.” 

Had he somehow crossed into the fade again? He wouldn’t be surprised, given all the other weird shit going on. Or maybe he had finally hit that psychotic break his publisher was worried about. Yeah, that seemed more likely. There was no way, _no way_ , that Bethany and Bianca would have anything to be laughing about _together_. What was Aurelie even doing here? Wasn’t she in the Western Approach with Stroud?

It seemed Varric had been staring at the grouping of women long enough to be noticed.

“Well _there_ you are,” Bianca voiced. Varric clenched his jaw, knowing he had no choice now but to approach. “I was beginning to think the Inquisitor was lying when she said you were here somewhere.”

“I would never lie,” Aurelie remarked and Varric widened his eyes as he glanced to her. She smirked at him and he blinked at her, bewildered. She’d been spending too much time with Hawke.

He cleared his throat and glanced between the three women. How long had they been standing here talking? “I take it you’ve introduced yourself already?”

“Oh, no.” Bianca’s grin told him she knew he was uncomfortable. She didn’t know why, but she _knew_. “I was waiting for you to do that. Only proper.”

“Right.” Varric put forth his best smile, given his inner turmoil, and gestured to the dwarf beside him. “Inquisitor, this is Bianca Davri. Bianca, this is the Lady Inquisitor Aurelie Trevelyan. I think she’s the Empress now, or something.”

“You need to stop introducing me as that, you know,” she laughed. “Somebody will believe you.”

Varric winked at her, relaxing momentarily. “That’s the plan.” He eyed the way Bethany was staring at Bianca intently, eyes scanning over her form. He took in another breath. “This is Bethany Hawke, you know—”

“Yes,” Bianca interrupted, and offered the woman a knowing smile. “ _Sunshine_.”

Bethany’s eyebrows twitched, but otherwise she did not say anything. Varric didn’t know if he should be scared or worried. He had never told _anybody_ about him and Bethany—not even Bianca. She knew enough about him, she didn’t need to know that. But Bethany’s reaction, or lack thereof, made him wonder if she thought Bianca was implying something more. Not that he could outright deny that _right now_.

“You’re lucky Varric gave you a nickname.” Bianca saved him from the awkward silence that was starting to build. “He’s never given me one.”

“Me either, come to think of it,” Aurelie added.

“Remind me later,” he grumbled in reply. He felt like there was something much more important lying beneath the surface that he had not even asked yet. “What are you doing here? Why would you risk coming here yourself? What if the Guild found out…or…”

Varric stopped himself, quickly remembering whose company he was in. Bianca seemed to grow even more amused.

“Well, you sent me a letter, of course,” she responded as if there was no other answer. Varric couldn’t help but flick his gaze towards Bethany, who had perfected the art of poker-face. Whatever she might have been thinking or feeling couldn’t be read. It was all too difficult for Varric to act casual, when acting like himself had got him here to begin with.  

“Varric,” Aurelie interjected with a curious look. “Is she the reason why your crossbow is named Bianca?”

Whatever awkwardness he was feeling before was compounded by her question. If Bethany hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t have thought it to be so untimely.

“It’s more common of a name than you’d think,” he muttered in response. It wasn’t like Aurelie’s question _really_ needed an answer. By this point, it was pretty clear just who Bianca was—and her significance to him.  

“And you’re a _friend_ of Varric’s?” Aurelie asked next, her eyes still darting between them as if she was trying to figure it all out.

Bianca only smirked, glancing at Varric. “You could say that.”

Aurelie finally picked up on Varric’s discomfort with the situation. Or at least, a part of it. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this tense before,” she commented.

“She’s taken a huge risk coming here herself,” he explained. The last thing he needed was assassins. Or maybe that’s exactly what he needed to escape this psychological torment. “Maybe for both of us.”

“Always the pessimist,” Bianca teased. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” 

Just out his field of vision he noted Bethany roll her eyes. At least there had finally been some kind of reaction from her, regardless of how discouraging it was.

“Why are you here then?” Aurelie asked, and Varric was thankful the conversation was getting back on track.

“I have a lead on where Corypheus got his red lyrium.” Bianca seemed poised to continue to explain, especially when the Inquisitor’s expression became concerned. Even Bethany seemed intrigued by the information.

And then. It got worse. _So. Much. Worse._

“Well, well, _well_!” The last word dragged out in dramatic flair as Hawke appeared as if from thin air. The upstairs balcony was calling him again. The taller man came up behind Varric and gripped him by the shoulders. “Just _what_ do we have here?”

Varric shook his head. This would _not_ be going in the book. A short laugh escaped Bethany before she snapped her hand to her mouth—at least she was amused with the situation, or his ever-visibly growing discomfort. He wiggled out of Hawke’s grip and moved to gesture his hand between them.

“ _Hawke_ ,” he started with a warning tone. It wouldn’t help, but he tried nonetheless. “This is Bianca.”

“Did we finally find a way to make your crossbow come to life, or…”

“We’ve already been through this, I’m afraid,” Bianca laughed while Varric rolled his eyes.

Hawke sighed. “Damn. And here I thought I’d have the original joke.”

“Bianca and Varric were explaining how they believe they know where Corypheus is getting the red Lyrium,” Aurelie interrupted, her _Inquisitorial_ mind focused on the real reason Bianca was there.

Hawke’s expression hardened for a moment, the news alarming him. “What? How could you possibly—”

“Bartrand’s Folly, you know, the thaig that Varric and you two—” She waved a hand at Hawke and Bethany. The younger sibling only frowned, the misinformation seeming to throw salt onto the wound. “—found.”

Varric winced and almost spoke to correct Bianca, but she continued. “The site’s been leaked.”

“How do you even know about this?” Hawke asked, but the way he was now looking at Varric told him he already knew.

“I told her,” he admitted. He wasn’t willing to go into detail with the company he currently had. Right now, the only opinion he was worried about keeping now was the Inquisitor’s, and she didn’t seem upset, yet.

Bianca continued to describe where they would be able to follow-up on the lead. “The entrance is in the Hinterlands, at Valammar.”

“That’s a long way from the Free Marches,” Aurelie remarked.

“The Deep Roads are all connected—they really are roads,” Bianca explained. “But there’s a reason nobody uses them anymore…”

“We need to deal with this,” Hawke suggested, nodding at the Inquisitor.

Aurelie nodded. “As long as he has the source, Corypheus is that much more powerful.”

“I’ll keep an eye on their operation and wait for you,” Bianca explained. “Try not to keep me waiting too long, Varric…” She offered a wink before turning on her heel and leaving the great hall.

Varric could feel eyes on him and his skin almost burned at the sensation. Bethany was despondent, Hawke was gleaming, and Aurelie was the only sensible one with her brows set in thought.

“We should set out for the Hinterlands immediately.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Varric sighed. Aurelie took that as her sign to leave as well, making her way to Josephine’s office, no doubt to explain the situation and travel plans. He finally decided to humor Hawke. “ _What_?”

He only continued to grin. “I’m going to ask Aurelie if I can join.”

“ _No_!” Varric argued. The last thing he needed was for Hawke to _spy_ on him and Bianca.

“Oh, I’m definitely going with you,” Hawke insisted. He flicked his gaze between Varric and his sister. “Perhaps Beth should join us?” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

Hawke seemed to not realize there was something else going on. Could he not sense the thick fog of tension in the air? Bethany clearly hadn’t said anything to him—perhaps for the best, if not for her brother’s tendency to talk too much without thinking first. She only gave her brother a cold glare before shaking her head and storming out of the great hall. Before Hawke could interrogate Varric on what he had done _now_ , he moved away, chasing after Bethany as she rushed down the steps towards the courtyard. He caught up in record time, given her longer strides, and reached out to grab her elbow.

“Bethany— _Sunshine_ ,” he called her name, _both names_ , and it caused her to stop dead in her tracks and whip around. The speed of her movements nearly caused Varric to topple over the side of the wall, ironic, considering it was what he had been wishing for only moments earlier. He exhaled when she only looked at him expectantly. “Listen. I’ve been trying to talk to you but you’ve been hiding, apparently.”

“Yes,” she offered shortly.

Varric cleared his throat, suddenly feeling every horrible emotion that he had been keeping tucked below the surface. “I want you to know that Bianca and I aren’t—”

“Stop,” Bethany cut him off, raising her hand. “I’m not interested in talking about this right now.”

He knitted his brows together. As much as he complained about things not going according to plan, this was crashing and burning in a way he really hadn’t foreseen. “No, I want to explain—” He was fumbling, and it only added to his embarrassment of the situation. “Bianca and I have a past, sure, but—”

“I don’t _care_ that you had… _have_ …a lover, Varric!” she exclaimed. Varric steeled at her voice, never hearing this type of emotion come from her before, at least directed towards him. “I care that you didn’t _tell me_.”

He was stunned into silence. She exhaled and her body seemed to slump a little—she really had been holding this in. For a long moment she stood there, fingers rubbing at her brow as she contemplated what to say next.

“I’m not naïve.” She shook her head. “Whatever we had, it’s no romance story for the ages.” Tears formed at the corners of her eyes and her voice dipped into a whisper. “Perhaps it’s best if it stays in the past.”

It was a statement Varric couldn’t talk his way out of. The silence dragged on for too long, and by the time the faintest trace of some kind of apology formed in his mind, she had turned, solemn as she walked away. He watched her go, and stood there for a long time just numb to what had occurred. There was a finality to Bethany’s words that shook him to the core. And yet, a certain kind of resolve washed over him as well. He could, and _would_ make this right. 

He wasn’t about to give up just yet.

 

* * *

 

The Hinterlands. The ass-end of nowhere, as Varric had once described. They had departed the previous day, almost immediately after Bianca’s departure. Aurelie didn’t want to delay, deciding this red lyrium leak was of too much importance. Against Varric’s will she had brought along Hawke, too appreciative of anytime the _Champion of Kirkwall_ wanted to assist the Inquisition. Dorian had joined them as well in an attempt to even out the abundance of rogues. For what seemed like the entire trip Hawke had been staring at Varric, his expression switching between amusement and a glare, as if he couldn’t decide on how to feel about the current circumstances.

On one hand, even Varric could see how Bianca’s arrival to Skyhold was some form karmic justice. That would’ve had Hawke gloating, if it wasn’t for the way Bethany was also involved. It put the older Hawke sibling in some kind of moral dilemma.

“Do I sense some kind of animosity between the two of you?” Dorian asked, falling back so he could walk with Varric at the back of the group. “Some kind of… _family_ disagreement?”

“Sparkler, you don’t know the half of it.”

Varric shook his head as he tried to eavesdrop on Hawke and Aurelie own conversation a few paces ahead. Dorian’s comment only made Varric’s mind wander off again, thinking about all the possibilities of how he could remedy the situation. It wasn’t going to be easy…and every possible solution ended with at least _one_ person getting hurt. Bethany or himself or…the crossbow on his back seemed to emanate with an energy as he thought of her name. 

“Can we trust this source?” Aurelie asked. She turned her head to look back at Varric over her shoulder. “Bianca?”

Varric blinked in response at first, wondering if she had suddenly obtained the power to read people’s minds. “Yes,” he answered. That much he knew was true. “On the slim chance we’re walking into some kind of death-trap, you can blame me.”

Hawke turned around and continued to walk backwards. “Can I get that in writing?”

“Hawke asked sarcastically.”

“You know I hate it when you do that,” Hawke pouted. It seemed to amuse both Dorian and Aurelie.

“Hawke muttered in an angry aside to the dwarf…”

Hawke settled on a grimace and turned around. They remained silent the rest of walk to Valammar, Varric returning to his thoughts. Now, he felt an extra pang of guilt for bringing _Hawke_ into his troubles, and for taking out his frustrations on the man. Seeing his disappointment only made him think about Bethany more, and how badly he had screwed things up. A dynamic between the three of them he had taken for granted was now in jeopardy, all thanks to his own damn selfish heart.

Varric was so absorbed in his inner turmoil that he was nearly scared shitless by Bianca’s appearance as the group entered the ruins.  

“ _Finally_ ,” she called. She was holding her bow, ready for a fight. “You really know how to keep a girl waiting, don’t you?”

Why was everything that anybody said to him today so… _poignant_? He shook his head. “Nobody said you had to hang out in the creepy cave.”

Bianca only smiled at that and he almost regretted saying it. He wasn’t here to amuse her, or _flirt_. She looked at Aurelie. “Those idiots I told you about are carrying the red lyrium out in unprotected containers,” she explained. “Considering _regular_ lyrium can randomly explode, I think its best we take care of this quickly.”

“Right,” Aurelie agreed before leading the group onward.

There was a handful of Carta members waiting for them at the top of the large staircase. A fight was just what Varric needed, finding momentary relief with every crossbow fired. It helped that watching Aurelie and Hawke fight together side-by-side was entertaining as well, the two so coordinated in their movements that Varric considered calling it a dance. He’d have to remember that for later. When it was all over, Bianca fell back to where he was walking, trailing behind the others.

“This is what you do now?”

Varric glanced at her, a little skeptical. “Beg pardon?”

“Shooting guys—is this your day-to-day?” she asked.

“I usually try to avoid the caves,” Varric joked through a mumble.

“This is kind of fun.” Bianca didn’t back down. “Kind of like old times, right?”

Varric noticed that Hawke had slowed his pace in an effort to overhear them better. Before he could argue with Bianca on that point, she continued. “Remember crashing Bartrand’s Guild dinner?” She laughed, eyes shining as she recalled the memory.

Varric wasn’t about to let himself get nostalgic. “This isn’t nearly as dangerous as pissing off my brother.”

“You’re certainly pissing off _somebody’s_ brother,” Hawke muttered before rushing back up to where Aurelie and Dorian were overlooking the pathway that would take them further into Valammar. His comment gave Bianca pause, her brow raising as she looked at Varric for explanation. He shook his head and was thankful when she didn’t press it any further.

“I thought we had taken care of the Darkspawn!” Dorian exclaimed, annoyed by the sight of more Carta and, yes, Darkspawn fighting along the bridge. It confused Varric as well, but he had no time to complain as they entered the skirmish as well.

“You had me worried, you know!” Bianca shouted over the fighting. It distracted Varric long enough that he was almost stabbed in the face by an attacking Carta member. Bianca had intervened, kicking him back before shooting him right in the gut. “I hadn’t heard from you since Haven!”

She was right. He had never sent _that_ letter. “Had it been that long?”

“Yes, Varric,” Bianca confirmed, the two standing back to back as they continued to fire at the oncoming enemies. “If you would’ve died in that mess, I would’ve come down to the Frostbacks and dug you up just to kick your ass.”

“And had I’d been cremated?” he asked in response, turning to face her as the fight died around them.

She only smiled in that sweet way that had captured him all those years ago. “Kick your ashes of course.”

“Ugh.” Hawke’s groan pulled Varric back to the moment and he shook the small grin he had developed away. He needed to focus, and Bianca wasn’t making it easy. It was her turn to lead the group as they approached a locked door, Bianca opening it with ease with the explanation that she had built it in the first place. It didn’t surprise Varric in the slightest.

“You’ve been waiting to do that,” Aurelie commented. Varric looked up at her. Another mind-reading moment.

“Of course.” Bianca waved her hand through the doorway, gesturing for the Inquisitor to take point once more. “After you.”

Varric hated the way his eyes kept trailing to Bianca as they continued on, his mind even more clouded than before. Despite his determination, he was starting to feel wistful, falling under some kind of spell. His thoughts switched to Bethany, and he would instantly feel guilty, the feelings worsening when he would notice Hawke glaring at him from the corner of his eye.

“How’s…what’s his name?” Varric asked. He bit his tongue the moment the words left him and the voice inside his brain was screaming _why_. Even Hawke had made a dramatic turn, his eyes wide in alarm.

“Bogdan?” Bianca confirmed. “He’s in Nevarra right now, selling my machine to wealthy landowners.”

He had more questions, but decided to leave it at that. Hawke didn’t.

“Are you happily married, Bianca?” he asked. Varric’s face burned.

“Most of the time,” she laughed in response. “Are you thinking about getting married? My advice? Two weddings, one you can ditch and one you actually go to. More dramatic.”

More Carta saved Varric from the torturous dialogue. There was a bigger group this time, obviously there to protect something more important than just the piles of red lyrium laying around. The fight dragged on, Hawke jumping off a nearby table at one point to tackle the brute from behind. Eventually, they emerged victorious, Dorian frowning at the amount of blood that was now stained on his mage robes. Aurelie, as usual, didn’t seem to mind one bit. Neither did Hawke.

“It’s why I wear red,” he joked. At least he was in better spirits, even if just for a moment.

At the end of the hall, Varric noticed a key on a desk, blocking another one of Bianca’s doors. She practically ran to snatch it from where it lay.

“There you are,” she breathed a sigh of relief and immediately used the key to lock the door shut. “They won’t be able to use this entrance again.”

Varric stared at the back of her head, and whatever strange emotions she had conjured up in the last few hours completely dissipated. “ _Bianca_.” If his mind hadn’t been so damn clouded—if he hadn’t have been so distracted, he might have realized it sooner.  

Aurelie seemed to catch on as well. “You were the one who leaked the thaig’s location.”

Bianca was quick to be on the defensive. “It’s not like that. Not…entirely.” She faced them with a curse under her breath. “When Varric told me the location, I went and had a look for myself.”

At first, Varric didn’t care about the triviality of her want to research the red lyrium, even as she explained vehemently that it was _alive_ —a development that got a mix of horror and intrigue from the others. No, Varric was upset, but it bordered on anger when she mentioned a familiar name.

“I found a Grey Warden mage—two-in-one expertise, right?” She shrugged. “Larius…he was interested in helping, so…” her tone was laced with guilt, but it didn’t help. “I gave him a key.”

“ _Larius_?” Varric and Hawke reacted at the same time. Hawke was, in a word, furious.

“The Grey Warden we met in Corypheus’s—”

 Varric cut him off. “I _knew_ something seemed off!”

“He wasn’t a mage the last time we saw him,” Hawke continued, and the realization hit them both. “This is how Corypheus escaped. And then you…”

It seemed Hawke decided to save Bianca the vindictive side of himself so few experienced. It would boil, and Varric would most likely deal with him later. It only seemed fair. Meanwhile, Aurelie and Dorian looked on in confusion and worry. It was a lot of information to process.

“I made the connection after you told me about the red lyrium at Haven,” Bianca continued to try and move the blame from her. “I came here and—”

“Is this why you insisted on coming with us?” Aurelie asked. Her tone had shifted to the one she used while in judgement back at Skyhold. It didn’t bode well. “You had to have known what would happen here.”

“I had to help make this right,” Bianca spoke in a solemn voice.

It didn’t faze Aurelie in the slightest. “You told Varric you had a lead so we could fix your mistakes.”

“Listen, I know I screwed up, but we _did_ fix it!” Bianca wouldn’t give up, but Varric knew it wasn’t wise to argue with the Inquisitor.

“This isn’t one of your machines where you can just replace a part and make everything right!” He raised his voice, all the pent up frustration bubbling to the surface.

“At least I’m trying,” Bianca spat back. “Unlike you, wallowing in your mistakes forever, telling stories of what you would’ve done.”

“Ha!” Varric disregarded the fact there was some truth to her slight. “As if I would—”

“Oh for _fuck’s_ sake!” Hawke finally interrupted.

Varric snapped his mouth closed before looking to Aurelie. “Can you give us some space?”

She took the message clearly, nodding as she started to walk back the way they came, gripping Hawke and Dorian by the elbows to make sure they followed suit. When they were all out of earshot, Varric turned back to Bianca. She was looking at him, perplexed.

“This isn’t fun anymore, Bianca,” he breathed out, rubbing at the back of his neck. He was tired—in so many ways.

Her eyebrows knitted together. “What do you mean?”

_Damn_ , Varric cursed as he willed himself to look directly at her. Why did he think it would be easy?

“I mean this— _us_ —it’s…” he groaned, wishing he had written something down. That would’ve been worse, perhaps. “We’re either friends, lovers, or neither.” He offered the ultimatum, something he should’ve done years ago. “And we both know that…despite everything, we _can’t_ do the second. Not anymore.”

He was surprised at how upset it seemed to make her, but it was fleeting. Her frown was momentary, as if she was quickly coming to terms with what he was saying was true. Didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt any less, for either of them. They had a colorful history, one Varric would look on fondly, but he needed closure or else he would never be able to move on. He thought of Bethany momentarily, but shut her out for the time being—this wasn’t necessarily about her, or _them_ not right now.

“You were always so melodramatic,” Bianca softly chuckled, trying to defuse the lingering tension. She regarded him for a long moment, her eyes scanning over his face. Even if this _wasn’t_ the last time he saw her, it wasn’t likely that it would be anytime soon. “Is this what you really want?”

“Yes.” His lack of hesitation surprised him. There was instant relief, but his chest still ached with an unresolved pain. “It’s time, Bianca.”

“I’ll miss you.”

There was a catch to her voice that was almost alluring. Varric steadied his resolve—if he stayed there any longer, he felt like he would take it all back. He didn’t want that. He almost choked on his next words to her. “You better get home before someone misses _you_.”

Bianca’s expression softened. “Varric.”

It didn’t matter now. He shook his head as he turned to walk away. “Don’t worry about it.”

He was ready to be far away from this place.   


* * *

 

  
Another week or so passed in Skyhold and again, Varric found that Bethany was nowhere to be seen. This time, however, he had quickly learned that she had traveled with her brother to the Western Approach, training with some of the mages at the Griffon Wing Keep. In hindsight, he was glad that the two were away, giving him the time to process everything that had happened with Bianca at Valammar.

He had come to terms with his decision, in a sense, realizing it wasn’t a _choice_ , just something that was a long time coming. Regardless of his relationship with Bethany, and his desire to rekindle the lost romance they once shared, it wasn’t fair to himself to be strung along by Bianca any longer. A weight had been lifted off his shoulder, and he felt like he had a blank slate, or maybe a fresh sheet of parchment, on which to move forward with his life. With his heart.

While other Inquisition members were busy out in the field, he was back to his usual haunt, standing before the fireplace in the great hall as he contemplated everything, including the future.

“Varric?”

He turned around, startled by Hawke’s appearance. He wasn’t expected back from Orlais so soon. Varric looked at him dubiously, not trusting the rogue’s calm expression. The last time he had seen him, he was still rightfully upset with Bianca for leaking the red lyrium. Now, after spending time in the Western Approach, it seemed he too had time to clear his head.

“I have news from Adamant,” he started. “I was headed to the war room, but I wanted to talk to you.”

“You could’ve sent a raven,” Varric offered as a small tease.

Hawke grinned, and it was a refreshing sight to see. “And not see your beautiful faces in person? Perish the thought.”

After careful consideration, Varric tempted his next question. “How’s Sunshine?”  

Hawke frowned, but it wasn’t directed at Varric. “She wouldn’t talk to me about what’s going on, but I could infer. She won’t listen to me either, though…” he paused. “It’s not my place to _fix_ anything.”

“She seemed to have calmed down by the time I left the keep. It’s done some good to put distance between the two of you,” he explained further. “Sorry, Varric.”

“I’m sorry too,” Varric mumbled, dropping his head.

“She asked about you,” Hawke hesitated. Varric glanced at him, trying to decipher if the man was lying just to make a friend feel better. “Truly. That’s…promising, right?”

“Wait,” Varric closed his eyes for a moment. “Are you suddenly rooting for us?”

“Suddenly?” Hawke shook his head. “I’ve come to terms with the fact that you love my sister, and she loves you.”

There was that word again—it terrified the right shit out of Varric, but delighted him in a way he wasn’t expecting. Bethany… _loved_ him?

“Oh don’t act so surprised.” Hawke rolled his eyes. “This is why I’ve been so frustrated with you, with you both. The thickest skulls in all of Thedas, acting like teenagers who have been hit with the idiot stick.”

“ _Hey_!” Varric argued.

“Besides, I told you that already. That Bethany still had feelings for you.”

“No you didn’t,” Varric argued.

Hawke pointed at him. “Now let’s get one thing quite clear. I most definitely told you.”

“You did not.”

“Yes I did.”

“ _You did not_.”

“ _Yes_ , I did.”

“ _Didn’t_!”

The two men stared at each other for a moment before Hawke opened his mouth agape in realization. “Perhaps I didn’t.”

“You really need to stop drinking so much, Hawke,” Varric joked.

Hawke only laughed. “I don’t recall either of you being this way in Kirkwall…not that I was paying much attention. Not knowing and all.” He would never let Varric go for that, regardless of how his opinion had changed.  

“You had your hands full of pirate booty—so to speak.”

Hawke began to snicker uncontrollably. The tension had been broken. Before Varric knew it, Hawke had leaned down, wrapping him up in a tight hug. He could only laugh in response as he patted his friend on the back, appreciating the gesture.

“It turns out I’m not good at dealing with shit like this,” Varric sighed. Hawke moved away from him and gave him a perplexed look.

“Just talk your way out of it,” he offered. Varric rolled his eyes in response. He had tried that, and it hadn’t worked. At least at the time.

“I keep wondering if Cassandra hadn’t dragged me here, I’d still be in Kirkwall right now, and maybe none of this would be happening.”

Hawke was intrigued by that. “You’d be with Beth?”

“Yes.” Maker willing. Hawke smiled.

Varric decided it was time to change the subject. “How was Orlais?”

“Oh you know,” Hawke started. “Venatori mages, brainwashed Wardens, _sand_ …Maker, I hate sand. The usual.”

“A regular Tuesday?”

“But of course,” Hawke nodded. “I tracked them to Adamant fortress. Did some classic reconnaissance work with Stroud. We should have sweet Aurelie and the others look at assault options.”

“Sweet?” Varric wasn’t going to pass that. He groaned. “Please don’t flirt with the _Inquisitor_.”

“Too late.” Hawke’s signature sly grin returned. “And before you say anything, _Isabela_ encouraged it.”

“Just don’t give Curly a reason to kill you,” Varric mentioned. “Not that he doesn’t already have a million reasons already with you.”

“She really is just who we need,” Hawke acknowledged. “You did well, Varric.”

“Aw,” he replied, sarcastically. “Thanks. It’s been great. Murderous Wardens, archdemon attacks, plenty of blood mages and crazy Templars…just like home.”

Hawke’s expression became empathetic. “I know how much you hated leaving Kirkwall.”

“Ass end of Thedas…” Varric trailed. He gave his friend a knowing glance. “I need to finish this out. Not leave unfinished business.” A lingering thought came back to his mind. “If it weren’t for me and Bartrand…” The Deep Roads expedition. Varric shook his head. “So much for changing our lives.”

Hawke’s words echoed in Varric’s mind the rest of the evening. “That’s what happens when you try to change things. Things change.”


	5. L’appel du vide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adamant: taking the phrase "I have a bad feeling about this" to a whole new level.

The siege on Adamant would be one for the history books, or better yet, Varric’s book—if he ever got around to actually writing down all the shit he was seeing. In an incredible show of strength, the Inquisition showed up in the Western Approach in full force, _literally_ throwing everything they had at the Warden fortress. All of the Inquisitor’s inner circle were there as well, split up and in charge of their own battalion of soldiers during the battle. Lucky—or unlucky—for Varric, Aurelie kept him with her near the front lines. Right where the bulk of the action was.

“You’ll be less likely to make up the details later on,” she had joked when the decision was made back in Skyhold.

Now, as he watched another catapult launch a fiery missile towards the battlements, Varric wished he had never boasted about being an eager story teller. Couldn’t she just recap the event later on? No doubt there would be a detailed report from Curly that he could _elaborate_ on. It wasn’t that he was scared—he was _terrified—_ but that was beside the point. No, for Varric he had a dreadful feeling that something awful was about to happen, a feeling he couldn’t shake. For better or for worse he kept it to himself, focusing on Aurelie as she led them through the thick of the fighting.

The army had worked to destroy the front gates, creating a way for foot soldiers to flood into the stronghold. With them came the Inquisitor and her companions, Dorian cloaking them all in protective barriers as the corrupted Wardens attacked. Blackwall had charged ahead with Aurelie, the two taking on the enemy at close-range. Varric lingered back near the mage, careful to watch his flank for friend or foe. Cullen was there now as well, his presence a force of inspiration for his soldiers—he wasn’t afraid to fight alongside them. Also with them was Ser Stroud, his compassioned pleas towards his brethren falling on deaf ears.

Through it all, however, Hawke was nowhere to be found. It made Varric only slightly nervous, uncomfortable with how many crazed Wardens were running around. The enemy was unpredictable, not to mention there were _demons_ literally popping up from the ground as they fought at the main gate. He only hoped that wherever his friend was, he was fighting like his life depended on it.

The loud crash of another Inquisition missile crashed against the walkway above them, punctuating the fall of the last enemy in the area. Whatever Wardens that survived quickly retreated, leaving the infantry team some time to regroup. Cullen approached Aurelie, not bothering to sheath his sword.

“Aur— _Inquisitor_ ,” he quickly corrected himself in a breath. “You have a way in, best make use of it. We’ll keep the main host of demons occupied for as long as we can!”

Aurelie seemed amused by that. “That’s a worrying lack of specificity, Commander.”

“There are more of them than I was hoping,” Cullen explained.  

“What exactly were you hoping for? A tea party?”

Varric would’ve laughed if it weren’t for the fire and screaming around them. She _really_ had spent too much time with Hawke. Cullen only shook his head, displeased, and regarded their Warden ally.

“Stroud will guard your back. Hawke is with the soldiers on the battlements, assisting until you arrive.”

Finally, an answer for Varric. Their conversation was interrupted by a body falling over the edge of the ramparts, which were crawling with demons. The sight only unnerved Cullen further. “There’s too much resistance on the walls!”

“We’ll clear them out,” Aurelie assured.

Cullen seemed to hesitate before moving away, running back to the gates where his men were awaiting further orders. Varric sympathized with the man, understanding how difficult it must be to throw Aurelie—somebody he cared about—into the fray. For a brief moment, he thought of Bethany, her place in all of this an even bigger mystery. He hadn’t seen her at Griffon Wing Keep on the way to Adamant, and he hadn’t spoken to her since... _Bianca_. The thought of Bethany being there now only added to his concern.

They fought as a group through the baileys, encountering possessed Wardens and demons the whole way. Miraculously, Aurelie and Blackwall had convinced some of the Warden warriors to stand down, a large group of them falling back to safety. Eventually they made their way to the battlements, where Varric found a familiar sight. _Two_ , actually.

“You wouldn’t consider _dying_ , would you?!” Hawke had just chucked a dagger a considerable distance, the thick silverite blade finding its home right between the eyes of some poor Warden.

At his back was Bethany, her hands alight with magic as she expelled a firebolt from her staff, it easily wiping out a pair of shades. “I think there’s a lesson here about the dangers of magic!”

Her appearance nearly gave Varric a heart attack—her words too—what was she doing here? He didn’t have time to comment as their group joined the fight, Hawke moving to team up with Aurelie. They had really perfected the art of double-dual-wielding rogues, working in tandem to flank their attackers. At least there were more allies than enemies now, Varric watching his aim as he shot dead a rather annoying despair demon. There was a rumble beneath his feet and the all-too-familiar guttural laugh of a pride demon.

“Big guy incoming!” he shouted. He felt a strange sensation wash over him, the hair on the back of his neck rising. It felt _almost_ like another one of Dorian’s barriers, except Sparkler was too far away. Suddenly, Bethany was standing next to him, looking rather worried. So _that’s_ what it was. He hadn’t felt Bethany’s magic in what seemed like a lifetime—not that he could feel it as well as he would’ve liked. His nerves calmed momentarily. “Thanks.”

She moved past him after that, fire on her fingertips as she engaged another shade. Varric cursed under his breath. _Thanks_? That had been the first time he had spoken to her in weeks and _that’s_ what he chose to say? He grumbled to himself as he took out the frustration on the grouping of green wisps. Before he knew it the pride demon was vanquished, the battlements clear for more Inquisition soldiers.

“Inquisitor! _Always_ a pleasure!” Hawke laughed as the last demon disappeared. Aurelie smiled briefly, gripping the man’s forearm in a shake. He patted her on the shoulder in kind.

“Good to see you in one piece, Hawke,” she nodded. “Bethany, surprised to see you here.”

“Two Hawkes are better than one,” she said coyly. She was even dressed in a similar fashion to her brother, red dragonling leather accenting her mage armor. Hawke regarded her with pride before glancing to the only one in the group with a scowl.

“Don’t look at me like that, Varric.”

Had they all forgotten what was happening? “What is she doing here? Didn’t the whole _brainwashed mages_ make you think—”

“I can take care of myself,” Bethany stopped him cold. She crossed her arms, brow furrowed in frustration. “I wanted to fight.”

“There’s no arguing with her,” Hawke suggested, ignoring the way Bethany rolled her eyes at him. “You of all people should know that.”

“Not all of us are susceptible to corruption,” Dorian added, reasonably.

Varric decided it wasn’t worth to disagree. He didn’t doubt Bethany’s ability, but the circumstances had him worried about her well-being than ever before. That sinking feeling returned, but again he remained silent. Nobody ever reacted well to ‘ _I have a bad feeling about this_.’

“There are still more demons on the western battlements,” Aurelie explained, the group following her line of sight were Inquisition soldiers were struggling. Her silence told them she was contemplating what to do next. It was in the opposite direction of the main courtyard where most of the Wardens were held up. Hawke took that as his cue, and grinned, ready for another fight.

“Surely you can handle the rest of the demons without assistance,” Varric spoke, somewhat sarcastically. His sense of humor was barely hanging on. Might as well use it while he could.

“Of course I can,” Hawke replied, brandishing his ridiculously large daggers. “And don’t call me surely!”

He ran off towards the opposite end of the battlements. Bethany lingered to give Aurelie some reassurance.

“You go on ahead, Inquisitor, we’ll catch up in no time.”

Varric wanted to stay with them, but as Bethany turned to follow her brother without another word, he took that as a sign to keep with Aurelie. They ran through the lower floors of the fortress, quickly cutting down any opposing force they ran into. The sight in the courtyard was enough to stop them all dead in their tracks. The magister Erimond, and what they could only assume was Warden-Commander Clarel, holding the attention of the brainwashed Wardens as they completed some sort of ritual. In clear view was a large, closed fade rift. Aurelie’s shock was momentary as she ran forward, too late to stop the Commander as she slayed a Warden in sacrifice.

“Warden-Commander Clarel!” Aurelie shouted. Even though she had her companions stand back, Varric readied his crossbow, unwilling to trust this could end amicably. “If you complete that ritual, you’re doing _exactly_ what Erimond wants.”

The magister argued almost instantly. Varric was sick of that tool and the sound of his voice.

“Do not hate the Wardens for doing their duty!” Erimond yelled. Clarel blindly agreed with him, which only enraged Stroud.

“What do you think your Tevinter ally is doing? Binding the mages to Corypheus!”

His exclamation gave Clarel pause. The shock on her face screamed of betrayal. “Corypheus?”

Erimond was already at her side, his words too quiet for Varric to make out. His trigger finger was itching to shoot down the man _now_ and hope it would end the madness. Clarel was conflicted as she stared between the Tevinter mage and the Inquisition forces. If they could delay this any longer, the Wardens would soon be outnumbered.

But suddenly, Clarel’s expression hardened. “Bring it through!”

“Oh, shit,” Varric muttered.

The Warden mages complied without question, using their magic to tear open the fade rift and bring forth… _something_. Stroud’s continued appeals went ignored as the Wardens stood ready to defend their Commander to the death. Aurelie shook her head, still determined to find resolution without further bloodshed.

“I’ve spared what Wardens I could,” she started. “See reason! Do not fall victim to this man’s corruption!”

Varric almost breathed a sigh of relief when he saw some Wardens, including Clarel, staring at Erimond now with suspicion. The deception was crumbling—even with the indoctrination, she was now hesitant to continue. Regardless, her resistance only irritated Erimond. So much so that with a few taps of his staff, a resounding screech was heard from above.

_Andraste’s ass_ —Varric hated when his intuition was right.

Within moments, Corypheus’ dragon was in the sky, barreling down towards the courtyard at an alarming rate. The red lyrium it expelled exploded a few feet ahead of them, the shining red of the blast nearly blinding. If Erimond’s intentions weren’t apparent before, they certainly were now. Clarel attacked him and the dragon in vain, and addressed her Wardens as the magister scrambled to run away. 

“Help the Inquisitor!” she shouted as she gave chase.

Chaos ensued. The Wardens that did listen to her command immediately engaged the demons that had been brought through the fade rift, including another pride demon.

“I am so sick of seeing these bastards,” Varric called out to nobody in particular.

“That’s not a very nice thing to call someone!” Hawke’s voice echoed around him, his body moving past Varric in a flash of red as he practically dove into the fray. “Did you miss me?” 

Even with Hawke’s typical confidence, Varric was not convinced, or even slightly relieved. Shot-for-shot, his fear was harder to swallow. The demons wouldn’t stop coming, and no matter how many times Aurelie or Hawke stabbed at the pride demon, it would not weaken. It was quickly turning into the worst thing he had ever witnessed, more than the fall of Haven, more than the near destruction of Kirkwall. In his distraction, a Warden mage knocked him over with the end of his staff. If he had used magic, Varric couldn’t tell—his one solace. There was fire in the man’s fist, primed for his target.

_Guess this is as good of a place as any to be cooked alive_ , he thought. When he heard screaming, he wondered if he was having an out of body experience. It wasn’t until he felt a hand grabbing at his coat that he snapped open his eyes, unaware he had them closed in the first place. All he saw was _Sunshine_.

“Bloody hell, Varric.” Her eyes were wide with panic. She pulled him up by the collar with one arm, the other using her staff to set up another barrier. She quickly followed it with a few fire mines to keep enemies back as she helped him to his feet. “I leave you alone for _five minutes_ and you think you can die on me?”

Varric blinked hard, wondering if he had hit his head. Was she… _teasing_ him? Why was everyone _joking_ at a time like this? Before he could respond, a flash of green exploded into the night sky. Aurelie had used her mark to expel a large amount of magic, the blast instantly killing the pride demon and the few enemies that lingered.

“How do we get out of here?” Her voice was laced with determined anger.

Stroud gestured towards the stairs that led to more battlements and a large stone bridge. “She went that way!”

Most of the group quickly made their way up the stairway, Bethany and Varric trailing behind.

“No, no, no!” Hawke quickly turned on his heel, stopping Bethany in her tracks. He grabbed her shoulders, shaking his head as she immediately made to protest. “You are _not_ following me this time.”

“ _Excuse me_?” she hissed. “ _Now_ you don’t want me to fight?”

Hawke groaned, throwing his head back in frustration. “That’s a _dragon_ , a scary, lyrium-breathing _dragon_ , and I’m not—”

“We don’t have time for this!” Aurelie interrupted them both and pointed to where more Wardens had made their way to the courtyard. Inquisition soldiers had followed, with their Commander leading them, but they would need help to keep the enemy at bay. “Stay here. _Help_ here.”

Varric could tell that Bethany wanted to argue, but her mouth snapped closed, jaw set tightly as she nodded once. Hawke didn’t say anything as he simply grabbed her hands for a moment, squeezing them in a silent goodbye before he ran up the stairs with the Inquisitor. Blackwall and Stroud chased after them, but Dorian lingered when he noticed Varric was still standing there, just _staring_ at Bethany. He didn’t know what to say—or if saying anything was the right thing to do.

“Varric?” Dorian called for him. He hesitantly stepped backwards a few paces before turning to follow.

That sickening sense of uncertainty returned, settling deep within his gut as Aurelie led them away. Before he rounded the corner, the last thing he saw was Bethany looking straight back at him. He prayed it wouldn’t be for the last time. 

* * *

 

Bethany stood breathless amongst the carnage, her blood rushing and mana pulsating through her veins. She hadn’t had a fight like this in years, hadn’t been able to practice her offensive magic so freely in nearly a decade. It made her feel _alive_ , but the circumstances filled her with a sense of dread all the same. She had been in the Western Approach for more than a week, away from Skyhold for a completely different matter when Leliana’s crows came with word that the Inquisition was marching to Adamant. Hawke and Stroud gladly joined the fight, and surprisingly, it didn’t take her too much persuading to be brought along as well.

The battle gave her something to focus on—as of late, her mind had been troubled with something much more delicate. Her _heart_. Ever since she had discovered Varric’s letters, she found herself confused, unable to deal with the level of embarrassment— _jealousy_ —that she felt. Was she a fool to take their relationship, be it romantic or not, for granted? The appearance of Bianca had only made matters worse. She wondered if she had over-reacted or not.

So, she went to Griffon Wing Keep, thinking the distance would help. It did not. She found herself _missing_ Varric, going back to read the carefully preserved letters she carried with her. She wanted some kind of answer to a question she wasn’t even sure how to ask. Did he still have feelings for her? Did he _love_ her? Maker knew she still loved him, despite everything. That much she could admit, at least to herself. It was a dilemma she had never dealt with before, and somewhere within her very soul, she knew the outcome would affect the rest of her life. Her brother had tried to help, but she discouraged him, knowing the resolution had to be brought on by them alone. Too bad the end of the world didn’t stop for just two people.

“Bloody timing,” she muttered under her breath as she smacked her staff against an attacking Warden.

“What?” Cullen was behind her, his head turning slightly to look at her. She shook her head, willing a bolt of electricity from her fingers to knock the demon attacking him back. “Thanks,” he grunted, before moving away to attack another enemy.

Bethany grumbled at that, reminded of the exact and _only_ word Varric had spoken to her since their reunion. Granted, she wasn’t expecting a full-fledged conversation in the middle a battlefield, but she wasn’t expecting a _silent treatment_ either. He had no trouble talking _about_ her, after all. It wasn’t until he left the battlements that she understood that it came from a place of concern. The same reason why she kept looking for him in the crowd of enemies, wanting nothing more than to keep him safe. When she and her brother eventually made it to the courtyard, she reacted in an instant, not knowing how injured Varric was when she found him flat on his back. This time he was dumbfounded, no doubt by the words she had chosen to speak. She was frazzled—the ridiculousness of the events unfolding around her had terrified her beyond the realm of rational thought. All she knew was that she did not want to leave his side. Not now, not ever.

Her brother had other plans.

“Damnit, Garrett!” She released the frustration she felt in a fiery blast, exhaling as her magic flowed out in a dramatic flair. The demons around her scattered into ash.

A deafening crash snapped her attention towards the stone bridge where the Archdemon had landed. A large portion began to crumble as huge arcs of lightening flashed upwards. Bethany could immediately sense the powerful magic being used. Powerful and _dangerous_. The ground—even the walls—rumbled with an intensity that nearly toppled her over. Cullen was at her side again and braced her, his expression slowly turning to one of fear as the bridge began to collapse at an alarming rate.

“Pull back!” he shouted, tugging on Bethany’s arm to ensure she followed suit. The only thing she could think was that the Inquisitor had been headed in that direction with her brother—with _Varric_. The ground troops fell back as far as they could, large groups of stone falling all around them.

“What was that?” Bethany was astounded. It looked just like—

“A tear in the veil,” Cullen breathed out next to her. His eyes were wide in disbelief as a large streak of green lingered in the sky. “They must’ve fallen through.”

He shuffled them to where Inquisition soldiers had commandeered a large room. Wounded lay on the ground, the few healers they had brought with them for the initial assault scrambling to triage. They would be safe here, for the time being. Cullen dispersed commands to his men as he passed, assuring that the fortress was well on its way to being taken. She clenched her fist, regretting that she wouldn’t be of much help here.

“Monitor the fade rift in the courtyard,” Cullen instructed a soldier. “Watch for any sign of—” His tone wavered momentarily. “The Inquisitor.”

“Do you really think they’ve gone through the veil?” Bethany asked. She watched as more soldiers rushed around them. Cullen didn’t answer her, distracted by his men’s movements and the general chaos of the room. She hesitantly reached out to grip his wrist, something she would’ve never dared to do in other circumstances. Regardless of his current position with the Inquisition, she still remembered his role at the Kirkwall Gallows. “ _Cullen_.”

He shook his head, looking down at her hand. She pulled away, but looked at him expectantly. “It’s the only explanation that brings us any hope that they’ve survived,” he finally answered. His voice dropped dramatically as he closed his eyes and pressed his hand to his brow. “It’s the only thing that brings _me_ hope.”

Bethany pursed her lips, slightly uncomfortable. She knew that there was some kind of relationship between the Inquisitor and her Commander, but his body language and expression spoke volumes to how serious it really was. It seemed Bethany was not alone in her worry of a loved one. They stood there silent for a few moments, just observing as more wounded were brought into the room. Suddenly, Cullen sighed, shaking his head again.

“I haven’t told her yet,” he spoke softly. Bethany looked at him curiously. He glanced back, and seemed ashamed of his sudden words. As awkward as she felt, Bethany knew that _any_ conversation would help keep them distracted until more news arrived. Until they were needed.

“The Inquisitor?” she prompted.

He rubbed at the back of his neck, nodding once. “Aurelie. Yes,” he continued. “I haven’t told her that…that I love her.”

_Oh_. Her mind froze—she was in no mental condition to offer relationship advice. “I’m sure she knows…” she trailed, hoping she could offer even a little comfort. “What, with the way you two are.”

Cullen regarded her, brows furrowed as if he was still unsure. He seemed to hesitate before speaking again. “Does…Varric know?”

“What?”

“About _you_ ,” Cullen clarified. “Rather, how you feel about him?”

Bethany could feel her face running hot, mostly because this was _not_ a conversation she thought she’d be having with anybody, let alone _Cullen_. Garrett, maybe, but _here_? Now? Was it really _that_ obvious?

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she tried to deny, but as she heard her own voice even she could tell it wasn’t very convincing. Cullen raised a brow at her and she groaned, closing her eyes tight until her vision became fuzzy. “ _Maker_ , you’re just like my brother.”

Cullen gave a short laugh. “Maker, I hope not.”

Bethany opened her eyes and the two shared a similar, amused smile. It was brief. She shook her head in disbelief, beside herself with how clear her mind was. That answer she had been looking for was just within reach.

“I struggle to wonder if it’s worth the risk,” she explained.

“The world is burning, we’re at war,” Cullen responded. “Considering the circumstances, I think the potential reward is worth the risk.”

“Says you,” Bethany didn’t mean to sound so abrasive, but the Commander only shrugged. They were both fools, but at least Cullen and Aurelie were already together. He had already taken _that_ risk. “I don’t want to have any regrets.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

_Flying nugs_. Bethany almost laughed at the sudden image that came to mind, but it was her quick thinking that gave her another answer. She took a deep breath, feeling a strange sense of calm wash over her. It didn’t last. An Inquisition soldier approached, his expression grim. Bethany’s stomach instantly dropped.

“Commander,” he paused, as if the next words were a struggle to report. “The veil in the courtyard has opened. The Inquisitor appeared only shortly after the explosion. She’s saved the Wardens and—”

“Everyone has returned?” Cullen asked, interrupting his soldier. The runner shook his head.

“Not everyone.”   


* * *

 

_  
The Fade_. To say Varric was displeased would be the understatement of the entire Dragon age. What was this now, his _third_ trip? First with Hawke, second with King Alistair, and now? He really needed to stop associating with people who brought him here.

“Why is it you never take me anywhere nice?” Hawke was frowning, or at least Varric assumed he was. It was hard to tell from the rogue’s upside down position as he stood on a nearby rock. Nearby, Stroud stood sideways, equally confused. Varric only wanted to lay down and wait for it to all go away.

“Fade shit here,” he mumbled. Nearby, Dorian looked at him, perplexed, and Varric just shook his head. “I’m thinking about just writing a giant footnote for this part of the book.”

“No details? How boring,” the mage replied. At least _he_ was standing the right way. Maybe.

Varric looked around at the green and floating rocks. While the Fade looked different from when he was last _forced_ here, it was similar enough that he didn’t feel like memorizing the specifics. If he had any say, he’d hope to forget this ever happened to him in the first place.

“This isn’t really how I remember the Fade looking the last time I was here…” Hawke trailed.

“It’s because we aren’t dreaming,” Dorian explained. “We’re here _physically_.”

Varric could feel his eye twitch at that. “No shit.”

“Was it like this when you walked out of the Fade at Haven?” Hawke asked next. He was looking at the ground, above him, clearly upset with his current position.

“I don’t know,” Aurelie spoke softly. She stared at her hand, the anchor quiet. “I still can’t remember what happened the last time I did this.”

“What if we found another rift to escape through?” Stroud pondered aloud. “There was a rift nearby, in the main hall…”

“Possibly.” Aurelie looked off into the distance, a large tear in the sky resembling the breech. “Let’s go.”

Hawke and Stroud were now standing on the ground where they should be. Varric blinked hard, wondering if they had even been askew before, or if it had been his imagination. He rubbed at his head as they walked, periodically glancing out across the landscape. The eerie darkness had him snap his focus back to Aurelie as she guided them. There were a few demons that patrolled the area, easy enough for them to kill.

The unexpected came when at the top of a hill stood a figure. Somebody, or _something_ that looked exactly like Divine Justinia. Her appearance gave everyone pause, even as she greeted them individually. Varric hated to admit he was even remotely religious, but the sight of the _most holy_ had him questioning his beliefs all over again. Their conversation with the Divine centered on the debate on whether or not she was real—it was hard to believe that she could be alive. No, it had to be a spirit. Especially when she began to discuss events that the _real_ Divine would have no way of knowing.

Instead, the figure decided to explain the Fade and the enemy that lingered there. The Nightmare. How it had stolen away the memories of the Inquisitor, helped Corypheus brainwash the Wardens with the false calling, and was now working to keep them trapped there forever. Wherever the Nightmare was hiding, Varric couldn’t wait to introduce him to Bianca.

They battled the demons as instructed, and as promised, their defeat revealed that the mark of Andraste wasn’t really from the Maker’s bride after-all. _Plot twist_ , Varric thought grimly. He could already sense Hawke’s fury as he engaged Stroud.

“The Warden’s actions led to her death!”

The Warden took it in stride. “I assume they had taken their minds, as you’ve seen done before.”

“We can argue after we escape,” Aurelie warned.

Hawke took that as a challenge. “Oh, I intend to.”

Varric still had his doubts, not wanting to believe anything he saw while he was here. That was the tricky thing about the Fade, it _tricked_ you. He didn’t want to think about a monster that took people’s memories away. It would only lead to fear, which was exactly what it wanted. He focused on fighting, keeping his mind as clear as possible as they made their way. He tried to focus on Hawke, the Champion’s scowl so unfamiliar it rattled Varric’s bones. A voice dug into his brain—loud and abrasive.

“Once again Hawke is in danger because of you, Varric.” Must be the Nightmare. “You found the red lyrium, _you_ brought Hawke here. _Both_ Hawkes. They will both die, Varric. And it will be your fault.”

Despite the gab at his heart, he braced himself. “Just keep talking, smiley.”

The grim expressions of the others told him they had also been _talked_ to, Aurelie pausing as she was momentarily caught off guard. Varric didn’t want to imagine what the Nightmare had conjured for her. Hawke looked at him, despondently for a moment. It looked as though he was about to say something when he shook his head, snapping out from the Nightmare’s grasp.

“How charming,” he grumbled with the faintest of smirks.

Further on, the Divine Justinia finally revealed her true nature. Well, sort of. Varric was still confused on if it was a spirit, a memory, or something else. Regardless, it was helping, leading them towards their escape. Except it wouldn’t be easy. _It was never easy_. In front of the glowing fade rift that would be their escape stood a towering spider—at least it was a spider to Varric. Judging by the looks of the others, it may have been presenting itself in any number of horrible ways. A different, towering demon that he could only assume was the Nightmare stood guard as well. The Divine _spirit_ engaged the demon, sparking it to summon more.

Within minutes, they were overwhelmed. The Nightmare figure moved sporadically, vanishing after only a few swipes of Aurelie’s daggers. It had cast a spell that entranced Stroud and Hawke, the two struggling to help the fight in any way.

“Help for the mage, please!” Dorian was leaning his weight on his staff as he attacked with his free arm.

Varric shuffled over to him, tossing the spare healing potion that he had. He had already gone through several in the short time they had been fighting, with no end in sight. And then he was on the ground, the thump to the back of his head echoing in his ears. He hadn’t even seen what had knocked him out. The lack of Dorian’s reaction told him the mage had been hit too. It was painful, but only for a moment. More than anything, he heard ringing—the clashing sound of metal and magic. He struggled to open his eyes, and when he did, his vision was blurry. He thought to move, but a voice in his head told him that wasn’t the best idea.

Another explosion, Aurelie yelling out as she used the full force of her mark to literally tear the Nightmare apart. Varric imagined what it looked like, smiling briefly to himself as he heard the whispering scream of its defeat. It didn’t seem to be any kind of victory, however. He could hear Hawke and Stroud discussing something urgent.

“…I’ll cover you!”

Was that Hawke? Varric furrowed his brow in a lame attempt to hear.

“…A Warden must—”

Their words grew quieter. Despite Varric’s desperation to want to speak, he was unable. He closed his eyes, wondering if this time he really was about to die. If so, he wasn’t afraid—or at least, the fear he had been carrying with him was now gone. He was calm, almost aloof. Maybe that was the blood loss, or the concussion. All he felt was arms surrounding him, _somebody_ picking him up with little effort.

_Please don’t toss me_ , he thought. At least his sense of humor was determined to hang on to the bitter end. And then, his mind went blank, and he panicked to think of something else. Something better. If he had a choice of a last memory, it needed to better than that.

As the darkness finally surrounded him, he thought of the sun.

Sunshine.

_Bethany._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *nervous laughter*


	6. Amour fou

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric says he’s not good at sappy. He’s also a notorious liar. The end. And there was much rejoicing. For real this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so happy I decided to (finally-officially) write for this ship, which I have had dabbles saved on my phone/laptop since 2013(!). I am also really grateful for the encouragement I received from the niche float that this ship sails on. Don’t worry my fine friends, I don’t plan on stopping with Varric x Bethany any time soon--or trolltastic Hawke.

_~~Bethany~~ Sunshine,_

_I have written a version of this same letter too many times now to count. You’d think it would be easier for such a renowned, accomplished, brilliant…_

_Turns out I can write well enough for made-up characters (okay, loosely based on real people) and the re-telling of heroes, but I’m right shit at writing my own stories. The plot for my own life—and maybe that’s enough analogies._

_If you’re still reading, and not already wondering, ‘Maker, Varric must’ve hit his head’—I’ve been thinking. The Inquisition, well, the Herald really, made the choice to recruit and harbor the mages from Redcliffe. With so many magic types around, it had me reminiscent; of Kirkwall, of you. Of…us._

_It’s been seven years (and 13 days) since the Gallows. When we stopped being ‘we’, collectively. I always, foolishly perhaps, thought of it as more of a pause. I can’t say it’s been easy, even after all this time. You know how many times I have to remind myself that it actually happened? Overthinking on if to include a flirting line in a letter, or does it cross the line. It’s only gotten harder the longer we go between meeting._

_As much as I miss Hawke, there’s a large part of me that wants to see you more. I miss you. You’re the only light I need. Sunshine—I could use some more in my life. A little more permanently this time._

_-Varric_  
  


* * *

 

  
He never sent the letter. That was the first thought that entered Varric’s mind as he felt himself regain consciousness. His head was throbbing—actually, _everything_ in his body ached. He wondered for a split second if he was dead. _Some afterlife_ , he thought. But he was breathing, and—prophet’s laurel—he smelt _prophet’s laurel._

He thought of Kirkwall. He thought of the coastline. He thought of Hawke. He thought of—

With significant effort he opened his eyes, his vision blurry. He blinked several times in an effort to adjust, trying to take in his surroundings. He turned his head, and as his sight finally cleared he saw just who he had hoped for— _Bethany_.

She was asleep in the chair next to the bed he occupied, the upper half of her body folded over and resting near his body. Her arms were curled around her head, face turned towards him. He frowned at the way her brow was tightly furrowed, even as she slept. Hesitantly he reached out, placing his hand over one of hers. He closed his eyes again, savoring the warmth of her skin. She was always so _warm_. He stroked his thumb over her fingers, concentrating on the fact that she was there—that he was _alive_.

She stirred. “Varric?” Her voice was so quiet, so shaky.

It brought a different kind of pain to Varric’s chest. He peeked open his eyes to find her halfway leaned up, watching his hand sweep across her own. And then her eyes met his.

“ _Varric_!”

He made a small disapproving sound when she pulled her hand away, moving to sit up completely. Her eyes were wide as she just _stared_ at him, clearly in shock. He knew he was injured, but could only guess at how bad the damage really was. A small part of him felt self-conscious—if he had the strength, he would’ve reached up to make sure his hair was in place. He craned his neck off the pillow just long enough to notice they were the only occupants of the tent. 

“Help me sit up,” Varric groaned. A shooting pain racked through his chest as he tried to adjust himself.

Bethany was frantic as she leaned over him a moment before standing up, turning towards the closed tent flaps instead. “Let me get the healers—”

“No!” Varric didn’t mean to yell, but it stopped her in her tracks. “I’d rather you…” he trailed.

She didn’t move from her spot near the tent’s opening. He was too exhausted to argue with her, but they were alone—something he had been wanting now for weeks. He wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass him.

“You know I’m not a healer, Varric.” There was so much concern etched into her features, and he wanted nothing more than to make it disappear. He had so much to make up for already, and now _all this_ was just something else he needed to apologize for. She took a cautious step back towards the bed.

“Please don’t let strange men in robes touch me,” he tried to lighten the mood. If he looked as bad as he felt, he knew they needed some humor.

Bethany’s lips twitched in the faintest of smiles, but it was gone all too soon. “I might do more damage than help.”

She took one of his hands, the other sliding around his shoulder as she helped him sit up and lean against some propped up pillows. He closed his eyes again, tingling at the warm sensation of her hand gliding across his skin. It was a welcome reprieve to the pain that continued to radiate elsewhere. Her scent lingered around him as he breathed in—did she know how comforting it was? Once upright, he could clearly see that his shirt was missing, swapped for numerous bandages across his torso and shoulder. He thought about making a joke about the state of his chest hair, but bit his tongue when he saw Bethany’s melancholy expression.

“How long have I been out?” Varric asked. He tentatively poked a few fingers at the dressing on his chest, wincing at the immediate pain he felt. _Well that was stupid_.  

Suddenly, Bethany’s hands were on either side of his face, cradling his head. “You came out of the fade unconscious and…” she trailed, eyes scanning over him. “It’s been well over two days. We had to take you back to Griffon Wing Keep. I was so—”

_Frightened_. She didn’t need to say it—he could clearly tell. Her thumbs brushed across his cheek and jaw, and he flicked his eyes closed again, finding relief in her touch. He covered one of her hands with his, just wanting to stay in that quiet content for as long as they could. There was still so much he needed to talk to her about, so much he needed to say, but— _wait._

The reality of the situation came crashing down around him and he froze, gripping her hand tightly. He snapped open his eyes. “Where’s Hawke?”

Bethany’s lips fell open in a small gasp. She frowned, and Varric felt his gut tighten. The last thing he remembered in the Fade was Hawke and Stroud arguing over… _something_.

“Please don’t tell me he—”

“He’s _fine_ ,” Bethany assured. Her hand squeezed his when he didn’t relax. “Well, he’s been injured—not as bad as _you_ , but—”

“And Stroud?” Varric asked next.

Bethany’s expression dropped completely. Her eyes fell away from his. It was almost all he needed. “Garrett told me…that Stroud sacrificed himself so that you all could escape.”

He nodded. “He wasn’t the first good man to fall to Corypheus. He won’t be the last,” Varric sighed. “This story’s no good for heroes.”

“Please don’t talk like that,” Bethany whispered. It was only then that he noted that her eyes were bloodshot. She had been crying. For all the pain he was feeling, an immeasurable amount of guilt took over instead. Of course he didn’t die—he wouldn’t have been able to do so, not when he had unfinished business.

“Did you watch over me this entire time?” he asked. Bethany slowly pulled her hands away from his face. Reluctantly he allowed her to do so, but held onto one at the last moment, not wanting to let go so quickly. He needed to stay grounded to the moment.

She stared down at their hands. “Not…at first,” she admitted.

Varric offered a small chuckle. “Hey now.”

“I was cross with you Varric!” Bethany’s sharp tone had him recoiling. She furrowed her brows together, gritting her teeth for a moment before sighing out. “I’m wondering if I even have the _right_ to be— _Maker_ , it’s so confusing.”

“The right?” Varric repeated.

She avoided his gaze. “I went through your things—your letters—like some…snoopy, jealous… _ugh_!” She covered her face with her free hand. “I’m so ashamed of it.”

He found her reaction almost endearing. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, Sunshine.” He noted the small way her eyes flickered at the mention of her nickname. He hadn’t used it, hadn’t said it in a long while. When there was a lull, Bethany freed her hand from his. Despite his frown, she reached to inspect the bandage on his shoulder. She shot him a sympathetic glance as she pulled it from his skin, the underside soaked with blood.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” he said. Talking was always better than silence. Usually.

Bethany turned for a moment, grabbing a washcloth from the basin on the nearby table. It was cold for a moment, but with a flicker of energy, she had made it warm. “More than _thank you_?”

“Ha,” he responded. He winced when she placed a new pad of gauze over his shoulder, the fabric soaked with some kind of medical ointment. By the way it stung, he guessed it was disinfectant. “I’ll never live that down.”

“I’m here now,” Bethany finally said.

He nodded. “That you are.” He scooped up one of her hands again once they were free of medical supplies, giving her fingers an affectionate squeeze.

Bethany looked at him for a long moment, her expression hard to read. It wasn’t that he was worried about saying the right or wrong thing anymore—he just wanted to be honest—but that didn’t mean that he was still worried about how this would all play out. Maybe it’s why he had dragged his feet all these years until _fate_ (and the _Fade_ ) had to intervene. He wouldn’t have regrets, not anymore.

“I should’ve sent you those letters,” he sighed.

She frowned, but there was a slight shine to her eyes. “And what about the ones for Bianca?”

That was fair. Varric nodded. Now _this_ , he actually wanted to tread carefully with. The last time he had tried to talk about his _ex_ , it hadn’t gone well. At all.

“I should’ve burned them,” he stated plainly. “Sunsh— _Bethany_ —I’m sorry if it ever seemed like I was…leading you on.” A small part of him wanted to laugh at the fact that he recalled _Hawke’s_ advice. She was confused now, with a trace of hurt. “What I mean is, I should’ve been more considerate of how my words and actions could’ve affected you.”

She stayed quiet. He continued. “Hawke brought up an interesting point—”

“ _Garrett_?” she interrupted in disbelief.

Varric softly chuckled. “I know, _Hawke_ , offering relationship advice. But he was right. I took what we had in the past…and whatever we have now…for granted, like the biggest fool. I fell victim to a horrible cliché saying; _have your cake and eat it too_.”

“What did Garrett say?” Bethany asked softly. She didn’t seem upset that Varric and her brother had been discussing _them_.

“He stabbed me right in the heart with sharp words,” Varric tried to joke. He cleared his throat when Bethany looked less than impressed. “Bianca. He told me that _Bianca_ was doing—had did—the same thing to me for the last…what, fifteen years? _Emotional warfare_.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Bethany mumbled. There was a slight sarcasm in her words that he took as hopeful. Only he would. She skewed her lips to one side, lowering her gaze for a long moment. “I wish you would’ve told me about her, Varric.”

“I know,” he sighed. “Trust me. I _know_.”

Through it all, Varric noticed that her hand was still in his. He ran his thumb across her fingers, pulling her arm a little closer to his torso. She didn’t resist.

“I spoke to Bianca. When we went to Valammar.”

“Oh,” she breathed. She gulped. “…And?”

“It’s over. Whatever… _we_ were, it’s done. It has been, but now there’s some finality to it. Something I should’ve done a long time ago.”

Bethany didn’t say anything for a long time. At first, he was content to let her sit and process what he had said, but the longer the silence dragged on, the more uncomfortable he felt. The more anxious he felt. The hard part was over, but the _harder_ part was still mulling around in his head.

Her fingers twitched. “You didn’t just do that because of me…did you?”

“I—” Varric paused. Bethany was frowning, and that was _terrifying_. He almost walked back on his words, but forged ahead. _No regrets_. “Why do you think I’ve done _anything_ lately?”

He hadn’t meant to sound so accusatory, but it certainly caught her attention. Her displeasure faltered, expression switching to one of surprise.

“I’ve been acting like some dumbstruck idiot from a romance novel since Hawke brought you to Skyhold. Maybe that was his plan from the start, knowing how he likes to hide his more devious plans behind feigned stupidity,” Varric trailed for a moment. Bethany was still staring at him, flabbergasted. “You’re all I think about, and if dwarves could dream, you bet I’d be dreaming about you too.”

Bethany blushed, her free hand reaching to nervously toy with her scarf. He squeezed her hand tight—there was no stopping now.

“Do you know how long I’d been waiting to kiss you again?” he softly laughed, beside himself. He couldn’t recall a time he had ever been so honest with _anybody_. “You’re the last thing I thought of before—” He stopped himself, not wanting to upset her. “You’re the only light for me, Sunshine.”

Still, Bethany remained silent.

“And, _and_ —” Varric stared at her intently. He needed her to say something. “A _birdy_ told me you feel the same way.”

“I—” Her face went bright red. “I _hate Garrett_.”

He laughed, and finally, she reacted with a smile. The tension was slowly melting away.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” she asked next.  

“I’m not good at sappy, you know that.” Varric lifted her hand towards his face so he could place a tentative kiss to the back of her hand. “I could ask _you_ the same thing.”

“I wanted to… _Maker_ , I’m afraid I’m still not very good at any of this,” she giggled. “I feel like a teenager all over again. I’m too old to feel so hopeless.”

“I’ve got ten years on you,” Varric mumbled, placing another kiss to her wrist.

Bethany’s gaze softened as she watched his movements. She leaned towards him slightly. “So…mages are still being locked up, and I’m sure the Qunari are still trying to wage war somewhere.”

Varric grinned, catching on immediately. “The world is _literally_ burning.”

“Nugs _aren’t_ flying,” she returned with a smile.

“ _One day—_ here we are,” Varric declared. “Bethany, I’m willing if you—”

She quickly closed the distance between them, kissing him firmly. For all of two seconds he was caught off guard, his surprise turning into delight as her hands moved—one to the side of his face, the other to his shoulder. Varric leaned into her, sliding one hand across her waist and the other up her arm. He grinned as she kissed him with fervor, but groaned as the weight of her pressed against the most injured part of his body—which just so happened to be _everything_. Ancestors curse him. Why was his timing always so awful?

“Bethany,” he barely got her name out as she paused to take a breath. Her lips trailed across his chin and jawline. He groaned for an entirely different reason, the one hand at her side squeezing appreciatively. “Sunshine.”

She only settled further against him, her chest pressed against his. At any other time, he would’ve been _elated._ Varric meant to keep his pained reaction to himself, but couldn’t. He hissed sharply, and Bethany pulled away in an instant.

“Oh—Oh _Maker_!” she yelped. She covered her lips with a few of her fingers, face lit with embarrassment. She moved to lean back into the chair, but Varric stilled her, keeping her in place.

“You’ll do more damage,” he recalled with a tease, peeking one eye open.

Bethany frowned, and insisted on leaning back to her seat. She slipped one of her hands back into his. “Varric, I’m so sorry. I just got carried away.”

“Glad to have that charming effect on you, love,” he breathed. Her expression softened, mouth falling open with a small gasp.

“Love?” she asked in a whisper.

Varric nodded without hesitation. “Yes.”

He hadn’t _really_ meant for it to slip out, but it only seemed natural. There didn’t seem to be any harm in saying it, not with what he had gone through to get this far. “What did you think that was before if not a confession?” he softly laughed. “Okay, admittedly I didn’t use the titular phrase so I’ll say it now—”

“I love you,” Bethany interrupted him, beating him to the punch.

He smirked. “Not fair.” Tears pooled in the corner of her eyes, despite her grin. “Hey, _hey_ …”

Varric pulled her close, pushing back the pain and silently reassuring her it was okay for her to lean against him again. He held her close, resting his chin against her temple as she pressed her nose against his neck. Her arms slid around him and he felt a slight relief wash over him. Warmth— _love_. He breathed a smile—he could always feel her magic in _some_ way, even if it was just all in his head.

“ _Maker_ , I wanted to say that—” she sniffled, words muffled. “I love you,” she repeated.

“Stop that,” Varric chuckled. He pressed a kiss to her temple. “You gotta let me…”

Slowly, he pulled her up so he could see her face. He held the side of her face with one hand, using the pad of his thumb to wipe the tears that had escaped away. For a moment, he thought he too might cry, but managed to swallow them down. He trailed his thumb down, brushing over her lips affectionately. They kissed, softly this time, before he rested his forehead against hers.

“Bethany Hawke,” he breathed. “ _Sunshine_ …” He almost laughed at the expectant look in her eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he repeated quickly. “Now we’re even.”

Varric couldn’t recall a time he had ever seen her so… _happy_. And _he_ had done that.

“I love you,” she whispered.

He smiled. “I love you.”

“Are you going to do that _every_ time?” she asked. She wasn’t annoyed at all.

“Of course,” he answered. Varric kissed her again.

Bethany smiled against his lips. “I could get used to this.”

 

* * *

 

  
_Skyhold, Three weeks later_

The journey back to Skyhold had been a long one. For starters, it wasn’t just Varric who had been injured and needed to recover. Hawke had broken his arm, and despite the healers attempting to set it, the break had to heal naturally. The Inquisitor too was healing—mentally _and_ physically. She had dealt with the Wardens, invited them into the Inquisition fold, despite a few of the inner circle disagreeing. The alternative wouldn’t have been fair to Stroud’s memory. There was that too—a small funeral of sorts held at Griffon Wing Keep the evening before they left. But they couldn’t stay in the Western Approach forever—the threat of Corypheus still lingered, and so the Inquisition marched.

Varric would’ve never thought he would feel _at home_ in the Frostback Mountains—in Skyhold. But considering the turmoil the previous weeks had brought, and the near-death experience, he was grateful to be in a familiar place. Somewhere safe. He was grateful for a lot of things, actually.

“Who are you writing to?”

Varric glanced up from his work, smiling as he saw Bethany approach. She leaned down to wrap her arms around his shoulders where he stood, her cheek nuzzling against his for a moment before she kissed his temple. His chest swelled—he wasn’t ever going to get over this feeling.

He lifted an arm to hold her in place. “Isabela. I haven’t written to her in a while, and if I don’t do it soon, I’m afraid she’ll send pirates after me. Or worse.”

“Worse?” Bethany giggled.

Varric nodded, tilting his head up slightly to glance at her from the corner of his eye. “Have you ever woken up with a halla head in your bed?”

The two laughed at the absurdity. She stayed close to him as he continued scribbling some words down.

“Are you going to tell her about us?” Bethany asked and Varric nodded. “How so?”

“Something like…’In Skyhold Bethany and I got back together—”

“And there was much rejoicing!” Hawke. _Yay_.

Varric and Bethany glanced up to find the _Champion_ approaching, his arms wide. The fact he was still lingering in Skyhold was telling. He was supposed to have left for Weisshaupt _days_ ago. But the rogue kept circling through his goodbyes, unable, or unwilling to leave just yet. The Fade had been a traumatic experience for him too—Varric _knew_ —but the man was seemingly back to his usual grandiose self.

Except—there were tears in the corner of his eyes.

“Oh _Maker_ , I’m just so _happy_ ,” he exclaimed. Bethany laughed as she moved away from Varric to embrace her brother, rolling her eyes when he leaned down to ensure Varric also joined. The taller man squeezed them tightly. “ _You two_.”

“Not this again,” Varric muttered. It hadn’t taken long for Hawke to discover the two had reconciled, walking in on the two cuddled close on Varric’s bed at Griffon Wing Keep. No amount of explanation fazed the older Hawke sibling, but in the end he was glad the two had ‘adulted successfully’ (as he put it).

“I just—” Hawke paused and pulled away. He placed a hand on each of their cheeks. “It’s not fair that I don’t get to stick around and watch this love blossom. I missed out the first time because of _secrets_ ,” he dragged the word out, glaring at them both. “And now I have to travel through Orlais to see some important Wardens.”

Varric swatted his friend’s hand away. “That’s what happens when you’re an important person, Hawke. You have to do important things.”

“Who knows what might happen when I’m away,” he pondered. “A wedding! _Babies_?!”

“Maker!” Bethany shouted, smacking her brother on the arm—purposefully so where it had been broken.

He cried and laughed out at the same time in some strange yelp. “Teasing!” He didn’t stop though. “You’ll name him after me though, yes? Hawke? Gary?”

This time Varric smacked him. “I’m not naming any—hypothetical or not—child after you.”

“I _carried_ you out of the Fade, Varric,” Hawke reminded. “It’s the least you could do.”

“What happened to a good ol’ fashioned life debt?” Varric asked.

Hawke shook his head and Bethany groaned, covering her face with her hand. “No, I’m going godly with this one. First born.”

“Second born,” Varric countered.

Hawke leered at him. “Only if it’s a twin.”

“Can we stop making decisions about my _womb_ , please?” Bethany interrupted.

Hawke’s expression softened and he grabbed their hands instead. “On a serious note—don’t look at me like that, I’m capable of being serious,” he spoke. “There’s nobody I trust more than you, Varric, to keep my sister safe while I’m away. She’ll be happy here. With you.”

Surprisingly, Varric was touched. He squeezed his friend’s hand in return. He wasn’t sure how to follow that up. Bethany moved towards him again, kissing him on the cheek.

“I really am going to miss you two,” Hawke said as she pulled away. He smirked. “And Ferelden. It’s a lot _greener_ than I remember…is that the breach?”

Bringing Hawke to the Inquisition had been a risk—by the grace of Andraste it had paid off. He glanced to Bethany and the two shared a knowing smile. It didn’t matter that it hadn’t gone to plan—he’d do it all again in a heartbeat. His reward was well worth it. The sun was shining.

 

* * *

 

_  
Rivaini-_

_Enclosed is the ten silver I owed you from before, and the five gold I’ll owe you for what I’m about to tell you now. That is, if Hawke hasn’t already spoiled it. I know he always likes to spoil the best stories._

_So here’s the big secret. ~~Sunshine~~ Bethany and I were an “item” back in the day, in Kirkwall. (And so on, and so on—the details of what happened in Kirkwall I’ll leave up to your imagination. It doesn’t matter if I tell you the truth does it?) _

_Anyways, it ended…sort of. I guess you could say neither one of us got over one another. As fate—or Hawke—would have it, she found her way to Skyhold, and back into my life. Hopefully for good this time._

_I guess what I’m writing to tell you is that we’re happy._

_~~And for the love of Andraste please don’t write any friend-fiction about us~~ —no that will just **give** you the idea.  _

_PS: Hawke says that he wants to get married. Actually, he already had the Inquisitor officiate it. Said you wouldn’t mind. He also said it would ‘lessen the blow of him disappearing on you’. If you want to find him, he’ll be at Weisshaupt. Have fun on the honeymoon!_

_-Varric_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter translations (or close translations) for the curious:  
> "L’esprit de l’escalier": "staircase wit"   
> "Coup de foudre": "Love at first sight" (struck by lightning)  
> "Après moi, le deluge": "After me, the flood"   
> "Cherchez la femme": "Look for the woman"  
> "L’appel du vide": "the call of the void"  
> "Amour fou": "Insane love"

**Author's Note:**

> This is my "journey back to Skyhold" as I haven't really written for DA:I fandom in a long time. BUT I have always had a soft spot for this rarest of pairings (see 2015 side stories fic "And Now For Something Completely Different" which will be put into this story) so I wanted to expand upon it here. I love Varric- love writing his voice. I also love sweet Bethany. The two just seem to be like PB&J to me. So it's time to mush them between some bread, so to speak. 
> 
> I didn't want to write for my Inquisitor really in the forefront, but you'll see her pop up in the background. So while I've tagged Cullen/Inquisitor, their romance is NOT the main focus. Sorry (not sorry). That being said, the same goes for Hawke and Isabella. Appearances, sure, but not the main focus. 
> 
> Anywhooo... I've only planned this to be a short story, so maybe 8 to 10 chapters. So there's some skipping around, story wise. However long the story-arc of "Here Lies the Abyss" takes me to write out. Ahem. Spoilers.
> 
> Please review, kudos, or whatever. yep. :)


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